


Fallen [A Dean Winchester Love Story]

by Wayward_Winchesterx



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 63,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6886318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wayward_Winchesterx/pseuds/Wayward_Winchesterx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Right when he loses sight of his purpose in life, Dean Winchester runs into someone from his past. Old feelings come flooding back, leaving behind an unprecedented emotion in their wake; an emotion he believed he'd never get to experience, let alone with with her...</p>
<p>Alaine Ventura. Strong, witty, beautifully delicate, and incredibly intimidating to those who dared underestimate her—she was a hunter, and a damn good one at that. Everything about her was too perfect, and Dean couldn't help but feel himself slowly falling into her magnetizing aura just as he had at the age of sixteen when his eyes had come across her for the first time. </p>
<p>After years of separation, the two cross paths once more, and what happens as a result is something entirely unexpected: </p>
<p>Their worlds collide. </p>
<p>WARNING: Mature content; occasional depictions of sexual situations. </p>
<p>(This fanfiction is based off Season 9 of Supernatural. It does not follow the storyline of this season. I do not in any way own the characters of the show.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**_ One _ **

_Gatlinburg, Tennessee._ _1:13_ _a.m._

Alaine had been sitting alone at a table in the back of an old country bar. As classic rock music blared loudly in the background, she noted the shift in the atmosphere. The small establishment had grown overcrowded with middle-aged men. Some had taken to drowning their misery and pain of a broken life into bottles of cheap bear while others sat on the prowl for whatever poorly dressed women they could get their hands on. Ultimately to her, they were all arrogant, overbearing pigs that she preferred to avoid at all times, even more so while being on the hunt for a case.

For two full weeks, she'd been searching endlessly for any leads that could point her towards something supernatural. She scanned through newspapers, and checked all forms of online media for anything that would stand out to her as "unordinary," but to her growing frustration, she'd only found radio silence. There wasn't any news on any recent demon possessions, or tips leading to a possible vamps' nest; there was absolutely nothing, and that annoyed the everloving hell out of her. 

She had blown out the third exasperated sigh of the night as she propped her elbow up onto the table, her temple pressing against her knuckles. With a bored expression, she reached for the half-empty beer bottle in front of her to take another swig when out of nowhere, a man drunkenly approached the side of her table. Flickering her gaze to him, she was met with a sly smile that was almost hard to notice underneath his thick, graying beard. He leaned in closer—possibly to better inspect her nonexistent cleavage—before his thin lips parted to address her.

"What's a pretty thing such as yourself doing here all alone? In need of some company?"

Offering him a cheap smile out of courtesy, Alaine casually downed the remnants of her beer. "Sorry, sugar. Not interested."

With a soft _thud_ , she set the empty bottle down onto the table, and pushed her chair back to rise from her seat. She adjusted the hem of her t-shirt, then took a step to walk past him, but as her shoulder gently brushed against his, the drunk man briskly took hold of her wrist and halted her mid-stride.

"Hold on now," he purred, his fingers locking around her. "What do you say we head on over to my truck? Maybe I could change your mind."

The muscle in her jaw twitched slightly. Slowly, she turned to face him, and with a smirk now tugging at the corners of her plump lips, she gently settled a hand onto his shoulder.

"You'd like to try, wouldn't you?"

Eargerness flashed across his wrinkled features, his eyes lighting up, expectantly. "Oh _hell_ yes."

"Well—" she gripped the collar of his old biker jacket into her grasp, and leveled her gaze to his. "—sorry to break it to you, but I'm not in the habit of screwing backwater-town trash like you."

His expression looked momentarily stunned, then as the insult she'd spat at him fully registered, a nasty scowl contorted his aged face.

"You disrespectful bitch. I oughta teach your ass a lesson—"

"Really?" Alaine smiled. "Go ahead then."

By the look in his widened eyes, she gathered he hadn't at all expected for her to challenge his threat. He stood there, appearing somewhat stunned as her gaze flickered down to the hand still firmly clamped onto her wrist. Without having to utter a word, he silently pulled his fingers away from her.

"Ah, didn't think so." Releasing her grip on his shoulder, she took a step away from him, but not before giving him a small push that'd sent him stumbling backwards into the table.

The sudden commotion had captured the attention of some of the patrons. They stood by, quietly sipping their drinks as they watched Alaine saunter away. She'd managed to make it to the exit without being stopped or questioned.

Had it been uncommon for sleazy guys to get knocked around by women for trying to make a move on them, surely someone would've stopped her. But even so, there was something about being able to defend herself that always instilled within her a sense of empowerment. Whether if it was a dive bar brawl or a one-on-one fight with a demon, Alaine loved the thrill of adrenaline that came from kicking ass. If her brother were still around, she'd surely be given the scolding of a lifetime.

_Jesus, Ali. Would it kill you to ease up a bit? You don't always have to be so freaking rough. I swear, one of these days someone's gonna end up knocking your ass to the ground, and I sure do I hope I'm there to watch so I can laugh in your face._

Strolling through the bar's double doors, she came to a small stop just outside the establishment. She lifted her gaze to the night sky, taking a moment to marvel at the small speckling of stars that glimmered softly. Smiling at the passing clouds, she let out a sigh of content.

"Wouldn't you hate to know I'm still running an undefeated streak."

Adrian had always disliked her attitude. Although she was nothing short of loving and sweet towards him, he never hid his opinion in regards to her brazen behavior against others. _You don't always have to fight about everything,_ he would always say.

Growing up in the care of their father, fighting was all she came to know. With the responsibility of being the eldest child, not only had Alaine needed to fend for herself, she also had to be in charge of looking out for her younger brother whenever their dad left them behind to go out on a hunt. From a young age, he'd instructed them to the best of his abilities. He took it upon himself to love them, and guide them to be strong and independent. When he saw that both Alaine and Adrian had grown enough to be able to handle a weapon of their own, he began teaching them hands-on how to defend themselves against werewolves, ghouls, shapeshifters, and various other unholy creatures he'd dedicated his life to killing. He brought them up to be better hunters than what he'd hoped himself to one day be, and took great pride in his two beautiful children until the very day he died.

Now, all that was left of the Ventura family legacy was her, and that was something she would forever take pride in. She'd spend whatever years were left of her lonesome life honoring the memory of her late brother and father because that was all she had left. Making them proud was what kept her going, and hell, she was going to make sure she kicked some ass while doing it.

Crossing the crowded parking lot of the old dive bar, she approached the spot where she'd stationed her '09 Sierra 3500, and popped open the door to climb up into the driver's seat. She settled herself behind the pickup truck's steering wheel, and released a heavy exhale. Inserting the key into the ignition, she turned over the engine and lazily buckled her seat belt into place before pulling out of the parking space and driving off.

Sticking to the main road for about five miles, she quickly came upon the small roadside motel she'd been living in for the past couple of weeks. It's blinking neon sign read the word _Vacancy_ in bright green.

Parking in front of her designated room, she jumped out of her truck. As she rounded the front of her vehicle and pulled out the electronic key card from her back pocket, she caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye.

It forced her to come to a momentary halt just outside her door. She turned around to face the object that had captured her sudden attention, and for just a mere moment, all Alaine could do was stare at it in awe.

The beautifully well-kept '67 Impala sitting beside her truck shone under the lights of the overhead motel sign, its glossy obsidian paint job making the vehicle appear all the more dominating than what it already was.

_Well, this baby sure wasn't here earlier._

Alaine did a quick visual sweep of the area. Being that it was nearing two in the morning, it was pretty unlikely to run into any of the other motel guests.

There was an urge inside of her; a growing need to get a closer look at the car. For whatever reason she couldn't quite pinpoint, it felt as if something was drawing her to the vehicle.

_Wait...have I seen this car before?_

Suddenly as the thought entered her mind, a bittersweet wave of familiarity came over her, and it was then that she realized why she hadn't been able to take her eyes off of the Impala.

_Of course she'd seen it before. How could she forget?_

For just a moment, Alaine allowed herself to relive the vivid memories of her childhood. It had been so long ago, but the images of that sweet boy she'd once met as a young teen were still as clear as ever. After all, how could she ever erase the playful glimmer of his eyes from her mind.

_No. She'd always remember them. Just like she would always remember the short moments spent in his company._

As Alaine stood there outiside of her motel room, she found herself pondering on the fate of that young boy.

_Where could he be? What could he be possibly doing at this moment? Did he even remember her at all?_

Every now and again, she would occasionally wonder about these things. At times, she would even stay awake into the late night hours just thinking; wishing she could one day be granted the opportunity to see his face again. If she had any friends, she was sure they'd call her stupid for hoping for something so pointless.

In secret, she kept up-to-date with whatever passing information she'd pick up off other hunters. She'd listen to the stories they told of him—his achievements, his failures. Every bit of his life was not only saddening, but it was also awe-inspiring. Hunters spoke of his name, and it could be heard in their voices the great respect and admiration they held towards him. Although there were some who couldn't stand the sight of him, the majority knew he was a force to be reckoned with.

The great Dean Winchester.

No one would dare cross his path. To those who feared the ground he walked on, they would simply admire him from the shadows. And for those who proudly called him a hero, they wouldn't think of passing up an opportunity to fight alongside him. Hearing of all of his endeavors-the lives he's saved, the battles he's fought-gave her an incentive to keep fighting.

_If he were to know of her many great achievements, would he be as proud of her as she was of him?_

The foolish thoughts of a lonely woman. She sought recognition from others in regards to her abilities, and of course, there were many hunters who knew and respected her for the name she carried. Yet, that respect hadn't necessarily been won by her sheer skills; it had been granted by the legacy of her father.

Alongside the Winchester name, her family name, Ventura, was nothing short of second-best. But in a world where one's abilities were meant to speak for themselves, Alaine wanted to be known for who she was a hunter, not for what others believed her to be.

One day, she'd make sure to surpass the expectations of everyone, and prove her worth as a woman capable of handling anything tossed her way. It all came down to making her brother and father proud, and even if it killed her, she was going to make sure she'd be remembered for many years to come.

Feeling the serenade of sleep calling to her aching muscles, Alaine finally pried her eyes away from the Impala to enter her motel room. Blindly, she reached for the light switch on the wall and after a few seconds, the cozy space was illuminated in a soft, pale glow. Dragging herself across the carpet, she approached the queen-sized bed and plopped down onto the edge of the mattress to remove her riding boots. She haphazardly discarded them onto the floor, and tossed her leather jacket and button-down denim shirt onto the small couch tucked into the corner of the room. After shedding her jeans, she slipped under the cool sheets, and as she nuzzled softly against one of the pillows, it was only a matter of seconds until she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

*      *      *

As a hunter, training yourself to be a light sleeper is essential towards staying alive. In the midst of an attack, a person should be able to react quickly. At the faintest sound, a hunter should be ready to draw their blade, or aim their gun. At this moment, said training is what jerked Alaine awake into sudden awareness and had her pointing the barrel of her M11-A1 into the darkness of the room. The sound of a loud _thump_ had snapped her awake, and as she briskly reached for the switch on the bedside lamp, she caught a glimpse of the time on the digital alarm clock. It was now half past three.

_Great. I've only been asleep for forty-five minutes._

Grumbling, she briefly scanned her surroundings. Everything appeared just as she'd left it before going to bed, not a piece of furniture moved out of place. She expelled a small sigh as she clicked the safety to her gun back into the on-position. Tucking the firearm back under her pillow, she settled back down and fluttered her eyes shut. Unlike before, she hadn't fallen asleep so quickly, yet after a few minutes of listening to her steady breathing, she finally began to dose off.

But instead of falling into a blissful state of unconsciousness as she'd hoped, she was jerked awake once more by another _thump,_ this one much louder than the first.

Eyes flying open, she sprung upright, her bare legs scrambling to jump out of bed. Blowing out an annoyed huff, she briskly pulled on her jeans when the sound of muffled, incomprehensible shouting erupted from the vent in the wall. Now angry, Alaine reached for her gun and quickly stowed it away. She stomped her way across the room, throwing the door open to storm outside. The cold chill in the air nipped at her arms, making the thin hairs stand on end as she marched on over to the motel room next to hers.

Drawing near, she could hear two distinct male voices speaking loudly. Moving quickly, she approached the door and without a moment's thought, balled up her fist and banged as hard as she could. In an instant, the arguing on the other side ceased. There was a long pause of silence, which only frustrated Alaine further. Once more, she rattled the hinges with her forceful knocking.

Suddenly, the door swung open before her. Alaine quickly pulled her hand back in time as a gargantuan man appeared from inside the room. His thin brows were furrowed into a small frown as his bright eyes regarded her, curiously. He took a moment to look her over before his features softened at the sight of her own angered expression.

"Hi...is there something wrong?"

"Wrong? Do you have any idea what time it is? I've been trying to get some rest but your damn arguing's been keeping me awake. I'd appreciate it if you'd do me the favor of just shutting up for the remainder of the night. Unlike _you,_ I actually value whatever measly hours of sleep I can get!"

The man blinked. He'd been stunned into silence.

Alaine watched his mouth open and close in an attempt to produce what she expected had to be some sort of apology. She waited, then as the words finally formed themselves on his tongue, the sound of the gravelly voice she'd heard moments before stopped him in his tracks.

"Who is it, Sam?"

The giant whipped his head around to glance at his companion, the tips of his brown, shaggy hair brushing across the side of his face. "It's uh...it's the girl from the room next door. She's upset."

Annoyance could be clearly distinguished in the clipping of his words. "Not our problem. Close the door."

"It kind of is since your yelling is what got her mad in the first place," Mr. Giant informed his moody pal.

"I don't care. Send her grumpy ass back where she came from."

Alaine raised a brow. _Grumpy ass?_

"Hey, asshole! I hope you know I can hear you. If you're not looking to get your ass kicked, I suggest you mind what comes out of your mouth next."

"Excuse me?"

Quickly, the giant shifted his body to block the open doorway. From the sound of heavy footsteps drawing near, she assumed her words must've angered the other man further.

"Dean, wait—"

"Move it, Sam. This chick's got a lot of nerve thinkin' she can just waltz over here and start hurling half-assed threats."

Grabbing hold of the door jamb, Alaine tiptoed to try to get a look over Mr. Giant's shoulder.

"They're not half-assed, dickhead!" she called out. "I'll beat your ass, just try me!"

Angry Man scoffed, humorlessly. "Really? You think you're tough—dammit, Sam! Move out the friggin' way."

"Stop! You're not about to pick a fight with a girl."

Alaine jabbed a finger into the giant's back. "Hey, don't worry about me. I can handle him. I'm used to fighting bitches."

There was a small pause of silence, then slowly, as if daring her to repeat her words, Angry man spoke up again. "Did... Did you just call me a bitch?"

_Got him._ "I'm sorry, what I meant to say was  _punk as_ s bitches."

"Alright, that's it!"

A whirlwind of events followed shortly. Everything happened too quickly for Alaine to process a proper reaction. Mr. Giant had been suddenly shoved out of the way. She stood just outside the door, her wide eyes watching as he stumbled sideways into the wall. Then, in a matter of mere seconds, another tall figure appeared before her, his menacing stature much more alarming than that of the first guy's.

He'd been agile and quick. His hands lurched forward with great speed; almost too fast for her to even see. They roughly grasped onto her upper arms, and in that split-second, Alaine met the soul-riveting gaze glowering down at her before she'd been lifted off the ground and hauled into the room.

A loud gasp of surprise escaped her. Effortlessly, the man pinned her up against the wall. He stepped into her, his forearm pressing down at the base of her throat. Adrenaline quickly spiked through her veins. She ground her teeth in anger, her body bucking in an helpless attempt to wrench away from him. To her misfortune, his strength had easily overpowered hers, thus leaving her trapped, and utterly defenseless as he loomed closer.

Alaine glared at him as his face drew near. She surveyed his shapely lips part just a few centimeters before a shallow exhale evaded his mouth. She felt the warmth of his minty breath ghost across her face, and for a small moment, had been dazed. Her gaze flickered all over his rugged features. His expression was stern, the hard lines of his angled jaw emphasized by the scowl contorting his face. There was something about his feral elegance that had her forgetting how to breathe. He was so close; close enough that the heat emanating from his broad body had her ensnared in its vice-like grip.

It had to be humanly impossible for a man to be able to produce _that_ much testosterone. It was suffocating just as it was intoxicating, and the longer Alaine was held captive under his piercing gaze, the more she felt herself slipping away.

_What the hell is this? This...this has to be the adrenaline..._

She was fueled by anger, by the urge to kick his ass. Yet, there was something else-a feeling like no other that was bubbling to the surface. It was strange, but also familiar; almost as if she'd experienced it before. It swelled inside of her, then suddenly, a spark of electricity crackled to life around them. It charged the air, making it hard for Alaine to drawn in breath as his expression shifted into something unreadable.

She could tell by the way his eyes now regarded her in curiosity that he must've felt it too. It'd caught him by surprise, leaving his defenses wide open. It was just the opportunity she'd been waiting for.

As his piercing green gaze bore deeply into hers, she carefully flattened her palms onto the wall behind her. She waited and counted the passing seconds before using all of her strength to launch herself at him.

She acted swiftly. Not giving him the time to react, Alaine swept a leg under his, and shoved at his chest, knocking him fast to the ground.

"Son of a bitch!"

The man landed on the floor with a resounding _thud._ Alaine quickly reached behind her, untucking her firearm from the waistband of her jeans. She switched off the safety, and pulled it around to point the barrel at her attacker.

"Don't move, asshat."

The man's eyes snapped up to her face. He barely paid any mind to the gun aimed at his chest. He merely gave it a passing look before his menacing glare locked onto Alaine.

From somewhere inside the room, the sound of shuffling broke out. She turned her attention to the giant to see him dashing for a duffel bag that sat open on top of one of the beds. He cast her a quick look and froze as their gazes met.

"Don't even think about it, big guy," she warned.

He noticed the seriousness in her voice, and decided to heed her words. He remained stock-still, all the while regarding her closely. He assessed the way she was standing-her correct posture, the way she held the gun in both hands. She looked as if she'd done this before, as if holding a weapon meant nothing to her. He also couldn't ignore the look in her eyes. It was one he knew all too well, being that he'd seen it on himself more times than he'd like to remember.

_Who was she, and why was she suddenly so familiar?_

"Where'd you get the gun?" asked the other man from the floor.

Alaine glowered at him. "None of your damn business."

"Why don't you put it down before you hurt yourself."

"Not gonna happen."

"Listen, you'd be doin' yourself a real favor. I don't take too kindly to being threatened, so why don't you be a good girl and put the gun away."

"Yeah? Or what?" she challenged.

Slowly, a smirk crept along his lips. Alaine stared at him, a look of confusion etching into the creases between her brows. Just as moments before, his agility had gotten the best of her. She hadn't seen it coming. He'd quickly lurched upright, his hands flying out to grab a hold of the area rug underneath them. He then gave it one sharp tug, and before Alaine could realize what was happening, her body came crashing down.

The force of her back smacking the floor knocked the gun out of her hand. It flew across the room, landing just a few feet away from the open doorway. To everyone's luck, the weapon hadn't misfired. She shot a panicked look in the gun's direction, her gaze then quickly shifting back onto her attacker.

The look she saw on his face had frozen her to the core. There was a murderous expression in his eyes, an expression so alarming she now wondered if he planned on killing her.

He'd moved so swiftly, she had not time to get back up onto her feet. In just a second, he'd appeared above her, his looming presence almost swallowing her whole. She met his dangerous gaze, her own eyes growing wide.

He'd attempted to reach out for her, to grab a hold of her arms. A wave of panic fleeted through her, throwing her body into fight-mode. She kicked and swung at him, but to no avail. He'd mounted her, the entire weight of his six-foot body pinning her down to the hardwood floor.

She screamed out in protest as he straddled her waist. His hands clamped around her wrist just as she made a move to throw him off. He held them tightly in his grasp, disabling her completely.

"Dammit, hold still!"

She writhed and bucked underneath him, her head thrashing against the ground. "Get off me, you jackass!"

From the other end of the motel room, the giant had managed to scoop up Alaine's gun from the ground. He'd slammed the door shut before returning his attention to the crazed altercation unfolding before him.

"Calm the hell down. I ain't gonna hurt you!"

Alaine fixed the man straddling her an incredulous look. She'd been struggling to free herself, but the more she fought him, the tighter his hands gripped her. She now cursed in frustration as he adjusted his weight over her. He was keeping her pinned and she felt completely defenseless.

In efforts to get him off, she looked him dead in the eyes as she said, "Let go or I'll start screaming rape!"

The expression over his face shifted into one of exasperation coupled with confusion. "What?"

"You heard me. I swear I'll do it!"

"Oh, the hell you will!"

Throughout the entirity of this senseless back-and-forth, the giant had been standing idly by, watching her. That nagging feeling inside him hadn't let up. It kept telling him this woman was no stranger, and although it made no sense as to why he suddenly felt like he knew her, he tried his best to put a name behind her familiar face.

"Dean, wait. Let her go."

The fighting had come to stop. The man shot his companion a bewildered look. "Hell no. She threatened to shoot me—"

"And I'll do it if you don't get your Neanderthal-ass off of me!" Alaine snapped from underneath him.

"See? Nuh-uh, she's stayin' right where she is."

"Dean—" With an exasperated huff, the giant walked over to them. He grabbed a hold of the man's shoulder and with one forceful pull, he hauled him off of Alaine.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing!?"

The moment his hands unraveled from around her, and his weight had been removed, she quickly scrambled up onto her feet. She retreated a few paces, putting a significant amount of distance between her and the men. She was weaponless, and at a disadvantage.

The taller of the two—or Sam as the other one had called him—offered her an apologetic smile. Holding her gun, he clicked the safety back on, then flipped it around and held it out for her to take.

"I think this belongs to you."

"Have you lost your mind?" snapped the man named Dean. "She'll kill us the second she gets that gun back."

"No she won't. She's not a threat, Dean."

"The hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet."

"Figured what? That she's friggin' nuts? Oh, yeah. I kinda got the impression of that already."

Sam fixed him an annoyed glare. "Just look at her, Dean. You know her. _W_ e know her."

Dean looked upon him in confusion. "What?"

Flickering his attention away from Sam, Dean turned to look at the woman before him. Granted she was hot—probably one of _the_ hottest chicks he's ever seen—it eluded him how Sam's statement could even be true. With curves like that on a woman, Dean was sure he'd remember her. Without a doubt.

Looking back to Sam, he regarded him with a pointed look. "Listen, I don't know what you're trying to get at—"

"Dammit, Dean, just look!" Sam gestured to her with a wave of his hand. "Come on. After all these years, she hasn't even changed. Her face looks just the same as it did back then."

This prompted Alaine to stare at the men in wonder.

_What the hell is going on? Did she know them somehow? No. No way. She'd never seen them before in her life. He had to be mistaking her for someone else. What was his name again? Sam? And the asshole that tried to kill her...His name was Dean..._

Amidst the all the fighting and the yelling, she'd obviously missed it, but now that she thought of it, those names were familiar, almost _too_ familiar. She flickered her attention between the both of them. She let her gaze roam their distinct yet similar features. She studied them closely, and found herself paying more attention to Dean-more than she should've.

When his eyes snapped over to her, she felt her body go numb. There was this hardness in his gaze, a look she was sure would send anyone running for the hills. Oddly enough, she didn't fear it. At least not anymore. What didn't click before now made absolute sense.

_These two must be hunters._

Everything about them, from the way that they carry themselves to the expression etched across their faces, indicates towards that very thought.

It was a thing of gut instinct to be able to tell apart common folk from her own kind. It always came down to the eyes, the haunted, faraway look that says I've seen it _all._

And Dean surely had that look, more than any other hunter she'd ever met.

Finally, all of the jumbled-up puzzle pieces aligned.

_Sam and Dean..._

Her heart slammed against her chest. Slowly, her eyes widened with recognition as a rush of breath escaped her lungs.

"Hey, you okay over there?"

Dean had been watching her curiously. He saw the emotions flicker by in her eyes and furrowed his brow in thought.

"Dean?"

The way his name fell from her lips, as if she'd waited an eternity to speak it, triggered something inside of him. It was a feeling, followed by a powerful memory that surfaced from the depths of his subconscious.

"Oh, my God," she breathed, stepping forward. "It _is_ you."

His mind had chosen that very moment to hurtle him back in time nineteen years to the summer of 1995.

_It was the month of June. Both he and Sam had been staying at this rundown motel in Nevada while their dad hunted after a group of wendigos. The motel hadn't had any working a/c's, so most of their time had been spent suffering in the sweltering heat. On the bright side, the two brothers had been able to find a source of entertainment while John was out on the_ _job._

_It_ _was another family of hunters. Coincidentally, the father of the two children Sam and Dean had befriended happened to have been chasing after the same monsters as John. The men had quickly agreed upon joining forces, and for the entire month of June both families stayed at the motel, all four children established an unbreakable bond._

One memory in particular stood out to Dean. It was one he hadn't dug up in years. He'd kept it locked away for the sake of saving himself from having to deal with the pain all over again. Against his will, the images of that fateful night surfaced inside of his head. He could see it all clearly. Once more, he'd been struck with the wave of emotions that had rocked him so long ago, but unlike before, he kept himself grounded, and held his feelings at bay.

As he looked at her, his gaze taking in every bit of detail, he found that he couldn't will his heart to stop beating so fast. From the long waves of her brown hair, to the glimmering of her whiskey colored eyes, the memory of her imprinted into his brain was just as different as it was the same.

She looked older, much older. The wear and tear of years had etched itself into the fine, delicate wrinkles underneath her eyes. Her skin still held that golden, olive tone. Everything else, like the soft angles defining her slender face, to the wide curves outlining her pear-shaped body, was all new to look at.

She wasn't a kid anymore. She wasn't that sixteen-year-old girl he'd met all those years ago.

She was a woman now, beautiful and strong.

His gaze moved wildly along her face. He parted his lips to speak, his eyes growing wide with realization as a name-the one he used to call her by with so much love-surfaced on the tip of his tongue.

"Lainey?"

A fluttering sensation emerged from inside her chest. She released a soft sigh of relief, then slowly, she nodded her head as her lips quirked up into a gentle smile.

"Took you a while there, didn't it?"


	2. II

**_Two_ **

Dean stood there before her at a complete loss for words. The confirmation of her presence was something he didn't know how to react to. It'd been so long since he'd last seen her, yet here she was now, beautifully aged, but still resembling the young, innocent girl he'd cared for so long ago.

All those memories—the good times they had, the things they'd done—resurfaced from deep within his subconscious and flooded his mind with a series of emotions he couldn't comprehend.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Dean admitted. His brows furrowed. "After the case was solved, you...you got up and left without even sayin' goodbye."

Alaine wasn't sure, but she felt like she could sense a hint of resentment in the words he'd spoken.

The day she disappeared, she hadn't bothered to even say a word to Dean. Everything had happened so quickly. Her father had gathered both her and her brother's things in the middle of the night, leaving her with only a small window of time to sneak into Dean's room to say goodbye. Although the thought had crossed her mind, she couldn't bring herself to do it. It would've been too hard for her to part ways with him after what they'd gone through. She'd been scared, and ultimately chose to walk away without so much as leaving even a small note behind. To Dean, it'd been as if she'd vanished from the face of the earth, and she could clearly see the repressed anger in his eyes as he regarded her closely.

"I'm sorry," she offered in sincerity. "It was so sudden. I...I didn't know how to say goodbye to you, so I just left."

"You just left? Just like that?" A humorless chuckle evaded Dean's mouth. "You know, friends don't just leave their friends high and dry like you left me."

"Dean. Come on, man. Don't turn this into a fight."

Glancing over at his brother, he cast him a stern glare. "I ain't tryin' to, Sam, but you can't tell me this don't piss you off."

"Okay, so maybe it does," Sam admitted. "She said she was sorry, and to be honest, that's good enough for me. We haven't see in her in, what, nineteen years, and the first thing you want to do is start an argument? Seriously, man?"

"All I want is an explanation," Dean said, turning to face her again. "That's it, 'cause I spent too damn long wondering what the hell I could've done wrong for you to just go like that."

Sadness churned in her chest. "You didn't do anything, Dean. My dad..." she paused, her gaze falling to the floor. "He grabbed up all of our stuff in the middle of the night. We hardly had time to get ready. I wanted to go to you. I just...what was I supposed to say? You were my best friend. How could I say goodbye to you?"

Dean scoffed. He shook his head, his eyes looking away to stare at the wall. The muscle in his jaw clenched as his stomach knotted.

"You know what?" he'd spoken up, refusing to now meet her gaze. "It's fine. Let's just leave it at that."

Confusion etched itself across her face. She watched his expression harden into this unreadable mask. Without another word, Dean chose to walk away from the convsation. He made his way across the room, his hands moving to grab up his long, double-breasted pea coat from the back of a chair.

"Dean," Sam called. "Where are you going?"

He didn't bother to turn around and face his brother. "I need some air. I'll be back later."

"Dean, wait." Alaine moved from her spot in the center of the room and shuffled towards him.

"You don't have to say anything else, alright? It's cool." He turned in time to catch a glimpse of her dismayed expression before sliping out of the room and letting the door fall shut behind him.

"Dean!"

The sound of the lock in the door clicking into place echoed softly. Turning to Sam, she cast a confused look in his direction.

"What the hell was that about?"

The younger Winchester released a sigh. "That's Dean. It's been a rough few weeks for us. Just give him some time to cool off."

"Does he do that a lot?" she asked. "Storming off?"

"Yeah, but don't take it personal."

"It's kind of hard not to. I was the one he walked out on."

Sam gave her a warm, reassuring smile. "Hey, I know it's late, but you're welcome to stay longer if you'd like. I'd love to catch up with you if that's okay."

She regarded him in silence for a moment. _Catching up._ A brief image of a young Sam Winchester surfaced inside of her mind. His smile after so many years was still the same, and the welcoming glimmer in his eyes hadn't changed, not one bit.

"I'd like that, but just not right now. I'm pretty tired, and to be honest, I don't think I should be here when he gets back."

He nodded in understanding, then smiled once more. "How about I stop by sometime in the afternoon then? We're gonna be here for another day or two before heading out again."

"Looks like you got yourself a date," she grinned. "Come by around twelve. I should be up by then."

"Okay. Sounds good."

She hadn't expected for his arms to suddenly envelope her in a hug, but she welcomed the friendly action nonetheless. She nuzzled softly against his chest as he gave her a comforting squeeze, then pulled back to glance up into his hazel eyes.

"It's good to see you again, Alaine. Seriously. "

She smiled, her hand moving to squeeze at his bicep. "Same here, Sam. I'll catch you later, okay?"

Sam released her and watched as she sauntered across the room to reach for the door. She stopped and turned around, tossing him another wholehearted grin.

"Twelve o'clock," she reiterated. "Don't be late."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

*     *     *

Alaine wasn't sure of the time when the sound of someone knocking at her motel room door startled her awake. Heart hammering against her rib cage, she stole a glance at the digital clock on her nightstand.

It was a little over nine in the morning. Groaning against her pillow, she forced her eyes shut.

 _Maybe they'll go away if they think I'm not_ _here_...

As if to counter that very thought, the knocking grew louder. The hard rasping of knuckles against wood became more urgent as she lay there. A whole two minutes had gone by before Alaine jumped out of bed. Huffing in annoyance, she searched around the floor for her discarded jeans all the while rubbing at her eyes in efforts of clearing her sleep-filled vision. She stumbled around in the dark as she dressed herself, then cursed loudly when her knee struck the edge of the table by the door.

"Shit!"

She momentarily blinded herself by flicking on the light switch. The rattling of the door's hinges grew even louder, and she quickly reached out to haul it open.

"So help me if you don't stop—"

"I've been out here for ten whole minutes. What the hell were you doing?"

She scowled at the culprit, her brows furrowing into a deep frown at the sound of his voice.

"Sleeping, _obviously_. What the hell are you doing? It's only nine in the morning."

Dean's lips curled up at the corners as a look of amusement settled onto his face. He studied her disheveled appearance.

"You look like roadkill. And is that...dry drool on your chin?"

Alaine gaped at him. "No!" she snapped, smacking his hand away as it reached for her face. "What the hell do you want?"

"To talk."

"Now?"

"Yes, now." Dean surveyed the questioning look in her tired eyes. Sighing, he shoved his hands into the pockets of the slacks he'd forgotten to change out of last night. "I know it's early, but I wouldn't be here if it weren't important."

"I swear, someone better be dying or else."

"Alaine, I'm being serious. I need to talk to you."

She sensed the slight urgency in his tone as his expression intensified. She groaned in defeat, a heavy exhale leaving her lungs as she stepped aside to let him in.

"Alright, come in. You're gonna have to give me a few minutes to freshen up, unless you don't mind a face full of morning breath."

He grimaced as he brushed past her. "I'll pass. Take all the time you need."

Once inside, Alaine shut the door and moved over to the windows to draw the blinds. Dean swept his gaze around the room, taking in her belongings scattered about. He felt her walk past him, and turned to watch her amble around in search of her toiletries. The mesmerizing sway of her wide hips managed to capture his attention. It was like a siren call, beckoning him to take in the plump roundness of her ass. 

Her silky hair, which cascaded down her back in gentle waves swept over her shoulder as she whirled around. Brows twitching, she tilted her head and nd cast him a pointed look. 

"Really, Dean?" 

His gaze flickered up to hers. "What?"

"Don't play coy. I can feel your dirty eyes on me."

"Does that bother you?" he asked, a smirk forming on his lips. "Me checking you out?"

Alaine shot him a daring smile. "No, I was just going to say to let me know if you wanted me to give you a better view. I wouldn't mind helping you out."

A surge of heat shot up the back of his neck. He felt his ears burn with the blush threatening to make its way across his face. Now flustered, Dean cleared his throat as a nervous smile replaced the smirk he'd been wearing.

"What? No, I—um, I'm good. I'm good."

"Suit yourself then. I'm gonna head into the bathroom. Feel free to make yourself comfortable while I'm gone."

"Yeah. Will do."

Dean stood there awkwardly as Alaine wandered off towards the other end if the room. When she disappeared from view, he bowed his head in mortification and palmed his face.

 _Come on. Get a grip, man_.

He found his way over to the small table by the door and plopped down onto one of the chairs. He loosened the knot in his cheap tie and sunk back in his seat as a long sigh evaded his lips.

_What the hell was he doing?_

After last night, he'd stormed off in need to gather his raging emotions. He'd been so pissed, but at t backhe same time he couldn't deny that seeing her again was what he'd been secretly hoping for. He never thought this unspoken wish would come true, nor that after all these years,  _nervously_ he'd still resent her for leaving him the way she had.

When he walked out on her, he'd gone around the back of the motel and slumped against a dumpster. He'd felt so conflicted, and couldn't keep that _one_ memory from plaguing his thoughts all over again.

_"Dean, are you sure you want to do this?" Alaine had asked from the back of John Winchester's car._

_It was the middle of the night. John had left his Impala behind in the parking lot at the back of the motel, and hopped into Ivan's car to go after the wendigos. After both fathers had instructed their eldest children to stay behind and look after their younger siblings, the ex-Marine men left for the hunt._

_But as any young, adventurous teenager would do at dead of night, both Dean and Alaine had chosen to sneak out. After making sure their little brothers were sound asleep, they slipped out of their rooms and darted toward the back of the Impala._

_With a bit of unease, Dean clambered into the vehicle after her, shutting the door behind him before crawling over her body sprawled out on the bench seat._

_"It's either now or never."_

_He was trying his damned best to keep up his appearances and not look like a complete idiot in front of her, but the truth was, he was a nervous wreck. He'd spent so much time picturing what it would be like to finally lose his virginity, and now that the opportunity had presented itself, he didn't know what the hell to do._

_For about a month, he and his brother had been staying at this motel with their father, just like Alaine and her family had been. They'd joined together under the same purpose of wiping out the cluster of wendigos hiding out in the neighboring woods._

_For the first few days after Dean met Alaine, he'd spent his time teasing her instead of being friendly. To his defense, he'd only done those things in an attempt to hide the crush he'd been harboring towards her._

_In reality, he thought she was pretty and sweet, and what he liked about her most was her sense of humor. She never failed to reciprocate his jokes, and hardly ever took offense to the things he'd say. It was almost as if she was some sort of female version of him, and that had been one of the reasons why Dean had grown so attached to her._

_He didn't remember how it all began, but after the first week they started to sneak out almost every other night. Whenever their fathers weren't around, they'd run off into the small clearing of trees behind the motel, and gaze at the stars. They would lie together on the grass, staring up at the sky, and would talk about everything teenagers could possibly talk about._

_One night, while he listened to her list the many reasons as to why she loved pistachio ice cream, Dean couldn't stop himself from leaning over and capturing her mouth in an almost timid kiss. He'd done it out of sheer impulse, and had expected for her to either scream or punch him in the face. To his surprise, neither of those reactions came._

_Instead, her wide eyes blinked up at him in absolute shock. After a brief moment of staring at him in confusion, her lips had crashing against his_ _, returning his kiss full force_ _._

_It hadn't been his first time kissing a girl, but it was the first time he'd ever kissed a girl like her. She was perfect to him—from her long hair to her bright eyes and dazzling smile. This girl had stolen his heart way before he'd know the definition of what falling in love even was._

_As he hovered over her, he found himself feeling incredibly nervous. He had a general understanding of how things were supposed to happen—the guys always being the ones to take the lead—but how the hell was he was supposed to do that? This was going to be his first time being with a girl, and he was dreading the entire thing for the fear of making himself look like a fool._

_He didn't want to mess up the moment. This was possibly going to be their only chance, and there was no way he was going to let it go to ruin. He was going to follow his gut, and simply go with what felt right._

_With a shaky deep breath, Dean lowered his body, and molded his lips against hers. He kept his eyes open to survey the expression on her face, and saw her let out a small sigh before her arms snaked around his neck._

_Softly, he peppered her mouth with tender kisses as her fingers wove through the short strands of his hair. It was after a few minutes of this that she eventually pulled her lips away to glance up into his eyes._

_"Dean?"_

_"Did I do something wrong?" he'd asked, worried._

_Alaine gently shook her head as she ran a hand down the length of his arm, her nails tracing over his skin in small circles. "Are you sure you want to do this?"_

_"What? Of course I am."_

_"It's okay if you're scared," she smiled. "I'm actually a little scared myself."_

_He swallowed hard, the muscle in his jaw clenching tightly as he met her expectant gaze._

_"I...I really want my first time to be with you, Lainey," he expressed in truth. He paused, his eyes briefly closing. "I don't really get whatever this is that I'm feeling. All I know is that I want to be here with you right now._ _"_

_Alaine let out a wavering exhale. "Me too, Dean."_

_Taking her honesty to heart, he carefully latched his mouth back onto hers. This time, he kissed her more confidently, his lips pulling at hers as the tip of his tongue coaxed her mouth open._

_A small sigh had shuddered through her as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of his jeans. As Dean kissed her the way he knew they both enjoyed, her hands had moved to undo the fly of his pants._

_His shoulders tensed as she sat upright and shoved the denim fabric past his hips. He leaned back, allowing her enough room to move around as she took his bottom lip in between her teeth and bit down. He expelled a small groan of surprise, and her hands clasped onto the hem of his white t-shirt to pull it up the length of his torso._

_Briskly_ , _she_ _yanked the article of clothing off him, and tossed it down onto the car floor before settling her hands onto his bare shoulders. Their eyes locked, and the flare of lust in her amber gaze knocked the air right out of his lungs. He took in a trembling deep breath, and leaned in once more to kiss her as his fingers moved toward her waist. He toyed with the ribbon of her pink sleep shorts, twirling it around his index finger before pulling it undone and carefully sliding the material down._

 _His heart was now racing a mile a minute as he removed her shorts. She'd angled her hips in an attempt to aid him in slipping them off, their tongues_ _continuing their gentle caress._

 _Finally, and with little effort_ _, Dean managed to remove her shorts. He discarded them over his shoulder as he drew back, and timidly lowered his gaze to her flushed face._

_She licked her kiss-swollen lips, her needy eyes quietly looking up at him as she gently cupped his cheek into her palm_

_Again, his hands moved back to her waist. Following their trail, he stole a glance at the lacey blue underwear she was wearing and felt the muscle in his core contract tightly. Smiling softly, he grazed his finger along the elastic band._

_"I like these. They're really nice."_

_A furious blush colored her cheeks a crimson red. "Th—thank you."_

_"Is it...okay if I take them off?"_

_She stared into his nervous gaze and softly nodded her head. "Yes."_

_Just like her shorts, Dean took his time slipping off her panties. He pulled them down the length of her smooth legs, and stopped once they reached her knees. His eyes then settled onto the apex of her thighs, and for a second, he almost forgot how to breathe. He swallowed hard before proceeding to slip her underwear off._

_With a shuddering sigh, Dean carefully flattened his palms over her knees. He urged her to spread them wide with a gentle push_ _, and nestled himself between her smooth legs._ _He then lowered his face to hers, and kissed her as one of his hands crept underneath the hem of her oversized t-shirt. He gently began to snake his fingers along the curve of her waist, guiding his hand up until he was met with the fabric of her bra. At the feel of his finger tracing around the underwire, she sucked in an unsteady inhale that shook her entire body._

_"Do you want me to stop?"_

_Meeting his gaze, she vigorously shook her head. "No, its not that. It's just...that actually felt good."_

_Dean's face flushed at the revelation, an anxious smile forming on his lips. "Really?"_

_"Y—yes."_

_"Do you want me to...touch you there?"_

_Alaine almost felt embarrassed to admit that she did, but she nodded her head, and his smile had softened out._

_He waited a few seconds to gather up the confidence he needed before he slowly cupped her small breast into his palm. He held it there for a moment, his gaze latched onto her face in case she showed any signs of discomfort before kneading the soft flesh. He squeeze down, and reflexively, a small moan slipped past Alaine's lips, a sound that had caught both of them by surprise._

_He saw her eyes go wide, but he dropped an encouraging kiss onto her lips before giving her breast another soft squeeze. He repeated the rhytmic motion, slowly drawing out hushed moans from deep inside her. The sounds she made fueled his growing need, and soon, Dean found himself freeing her breast from the confines of her bra to circle his thumb around the hardened peak._

_The_ _sudden skin-to-skin contact sent a violent shock down her spine. She groaned as her back arched into his touch._ _Seemingly out of nowhere, a surge of arousal shot through Alaine's body, and her yearning to feel more_ _drove her to grind against his thigh._

 _Dean watched her breathlessly as the friction of his denim-clad leg against her naked sex stirred something wild within her. It was a beautiful sight, one that magnified every pulsing emotion coursing through his veins._ _In one swift motion, he managed to rid her of her shirt, and the item quickly joined the others scattered along the car floor as he reached into his back pocket._

_Alaine kept her eyes trained on him, observing his every move. She witnessed him pull out a small foil packet and hold it between his teeth as he pushed his underwear down. Although afraid, she stole a quick peek between his legs. She marveled at the sight of his arousal. It was her first time ever laying eyes on something like this, and it overwhelmed her in the most erotic way. When she flickered her eyes back up to his, she noticed the subtle heaving of his chest, as well as the uncertainty reflecting through his green gaze._

_"Dean?" she'd called out softly. "Is something wrong?"_

_"Do you really want to do this with me?"_

_He asked a similar question to the one she'd asked him. Without a moment's thought, Alaine had given her answer in the form of a nod, and Dean sighed in relief as he plucked the unopened condom wrapper from his mouth and ripped into the foil._

_It hadn't taken him long to secure the protection into place. He'd had enough time to practice—in secret while in the privacy of his motel room bathroom. In a matter of seconds, Dean had managed to slip the latex down the length of his erection. He then leaned forward so that his stomach brushed up against hers. With an unsteady breath, he hooked her legs around his waist and guided his hand between their bodies to position himself at her entrance._

_"This is gonna hurt."_

_Peering back into his eyes, Alaine nodded. "I know."_

_"Tell me when you're ready."_

_"I am. I'm ready."_

_Dean dropped his head. He sealed his mouth over hers in a profound and heartfelt kiss, and murmured, "I'm sorry," against her lips before his hips flexed and the crown of his shaft broke through the film of her innocence._

The sudden sound of a door opening snapped him from this memory and back into the present. Remembering where he was, Dean turned in the chair he'd sat down in just as Alaine emerged from the bathroom.

Her hair, no longer appearing unkempt, had been swept back into a ponytail. She had changed into a different set of clothes and was carrying the ones she'd taken off as she ambled into the room.

"Sorry if I took too long. I had this huge freaking knot in my hair; it took me forever to get it out."

Silently, Dean watched her rummage through her belongings. She'd stowed away her dirty clothes and toiletries, then dragged herself on over to the small table where Dean was sitting to perch herself on top of it. When she settled herself in front of him, she fixed him a smile that had damn near made his heart stop beating.

"So, care to tell me what made you crawl out of bed so early to come find me? Don't tell me it's 'cause you're looking to get your ass beat some more."

A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. "You're still a firecracker, aren't you?"

Flattening her palms over her thighs, Alaine cocked her head to the side and gave him a playful smile. "Absolutely. What about you? You still the same shy, goofy kid trying to play cool?"

"You thought I was goofy?"

"You were a total cornball," she teased. "But, as lame as your jokes were, I really did enjoy them."

"Jeez, way to wound a man's ego."

"Hey, you weren't all that bad. For what it's worth, I must've really saw something in you to let you snatch my V-card."

An unknown feeling stirred inside Dean's chest. He held her gaze for what seemed like an eternity, then came his voice, deep and low.

"I could say the same."

In an instant, a shift in the air around them could be felt. They both picked up on the change as they regarded one another in brief yet intense silence. Alaine took the opportunity to study the striking features of the man before her. Although his pale blue dress shirt was horribly wrinkled, and his hair ruffled from sleep, he looked breathtaking nonetheless. The dominance he exhibited with just his mere gaze was almost too much to bare. With a nervous smile, she forced herself to look away.

"So, you gonna tell me why you're here?"

"I came to apologize."

Alaine's eyes flickered back over to him. "Why?"

The muscle in Dean's jaw twitched. He sighed and leaned forward in his seat. "I was a dick to you last night."

"Listen, it's okay. I get it."

"No, it's not okay. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm sorry."

"Dean." Reaching toward him, she splayed a hand over his left knee. She gave it a small, reassuring squeeze as a smile played on her lips. "Really, it's fine. I'm not mad. Sammy told me you guys were having a tough time, so I understand."

"Funny of you to bring that up. I sorta need your help right now."

Alaine's brows furrowed slightly with worry. "Why? Did something happen?"

Dean sighed. "Sam and I, we got into this fight. He snaked my keys while I was asleep and took off with my car."

"Well, you must've done something to royally piss him off."

"Listen, I know it's been a long time since we've seen each other, and I'd get it if you kicked my ass to the curb after how I treated you, but do you think you could lend me a hand?"

"Hmm. Depends on what you're asking me for."

"Just a ride home. It's alright if you don't want to. I got a couple of buddies I could try callin' up—"

"Okay, I don't see why not."

Dean stopped short. He fixed her with a disbelieving look, his brows arching in surprise. "What? You sure?"

"If you're thinking you'd like to repay my act of kindness somehow, a nice, home-cooked meal would definitely suffice," Alaine smiled. "That is, if you can work your way around a kitchen."

"You got yourself a deal. If you can get me to Kansas, I'll give you whatever you want."

"Kansas? Wait, did you end up moving back home?"

"You can say that. It's a long story, but Sammy and I came across this underground bunker a few months back and been livin' in it ever since. The place is like a real-life batcave warded against every damn thing you could possibly think of."

Interest sparked in her eyes. "A batcave? Sounds like I've been missing out on all the fun."

"I'm gonna take that as your way of askin' for a tour."

"And there you go, reminding me why nobody could ever take your place."

"'Cause no one will ever know you better than I do."

For some odd reason, those words resonated in her. Before she could register what she was doing, a phrase slipped past her lips. It was one she hadn't thought of in years, but came to her so naturally, almost as if speaking it was still of second nature to her.

"Promise to promise?"

Dean felt his heart come to a screeching halt. He cast her a knowing look, prompting a delicate smirk to creep up onto her face as she held his gaze with unspoken meaning.

"I promise to promise," he murmured back. "Just like the good old days."


	3. III

_**Three** _

"Sam!"

The sound of Dean's voice shouting his brother's name reverberated off the bunker's reinforced-steel walls. He waited at the top of the stairs as he cast a look over the balcony's railing. There was no sign of Sam in the operations room. The oval-shaped table sat in the center as neat as the day they'd left it.

He quickly descended the iron staircase. His heavy footsteps echoed loudly as his legs carried him over to stand at the library's vast threshold. Like the room behind him, this one showed no signs of his brother's presence. With a scowl etched deeply into the fine wrinkles of his forehead, Dean stormed off towards the end of the library, and into the maze-like halls.

He continued to call out to Sam as he wandered through the long passageways. He made a brief stop at the kitchen, pausing to glance inside of the room. Upon seeing that it was empty, he proceeded towards the sleeping quarters.

"Sam!" he bellowed. "Dammit. I know you hear me!"

By now, the elder Winchester's irritation had given way to anger. Before he knew it, he'd reached the familiar wooden door leading into his brother's bedroom. He didn't waste a second and barged right in.

At the foot of the queen-sized bed, Dean noticed an oversized duffel bag packed almost to the brim with clothes. He snapped his gaze over to the far end of the room where Sam was quietly rummaging through his dresser, and glared at the back of his head.

"Really, Sam? So, what, you get mad, take my Baby and friggin' leave my ass stranded? Not cool, man. Not cool."

Turning to face him, Sam cast his brother an indifferent look. He calmly walked back to his bed to stow away the folded shirts he held in his hands.

"How'd you make it home?"

Dean regarded him, incredulously. "You can't be serious. The hell’s your problem?"

"My problem—" Sam said while neatly arranging his belongings. "—is how you think everything should be okay between us after what’s happened."

"Sam—"

The younger Winchester halted his movements. "Don't." He whipped around. "Don't go there, Dean."

"The hell I won't." Determination blazing in his green eyes, Dean stepped further into the room. "I know what you're thinking, okay?"

"Really?" Sam shook his head as a humorless chuckle left his lips. "I'm not doing this with you right now."

"Doin' what, Sam? Talking about what's bothering you?"

"Yeah. Why don't you just go, alright?"

"No."

"Dean," Sam began to warn. "I mean it, go—"

Disregarding the seriousness behind his brother’s words, he drew closer.

"Look at me, Sammy."

Sam hesitated. He dragged in a steady breath before lifting his gaze up from the floor to meet Dean's stare. The eldest brother could see the inner conflict in the other's eyes. Hardening his expression, he proceeded to speak.

"Listen. I know how jacked-up this is, alright? With Kevin dead and Gadreel falling off the map—"

"It's been a month," Sam stated somberly. "A whole month, and nothing. I...I can't live with myself, Dean. He was just a kid, and I—"

"It ain't your fault," Dean interjected. "That son of a bitch played us. No way in hell is Kevin's death on your hands."

A frown settled across Sam's face. "Us? He played _you_ , Dean. None of this would've happened had you let me go. Hell, I was ready."

"Yeah? And what was I supposed to do? Let you die?"

"Yes."

The muscle in Dean's jaw twitched in anger. "You shut your mouth."

"Don't you get it, Dean? All this—" Sam waved his hand around for emphasis. "—it's _your_ fault. Kevin, Gadreel. All of it. It's all on you."

"Don't you say that to me—"

"Had you not been selfish, he'd still be here."

"Selifsh?" Dean's eyes narrowed. "You're callin' me bringing you back from the brink of death _selfish_?"

"Tell me, Dean. Who'd you do it for?"

"What?"

Sam stepped forward. He fixed his brother a pointed look. "Who?" he asked again. "Who'd you bring me back for?"

A pause of silence fell over them. The younger Winchester held the other's gaze as anger swelled inside of him.

"You and I both know it wasn't for me. You brought me back solely because _you're_ too afraid of being alone."

Dean clenched his fists at his sides. "That ain't true," he reproved.

"Oh, the hell it isn't!" Sam blared. "Everyone we've ever loved—mom, dad, Bobby—they're all gone. You couldn't live with the thought of being left here on your own. You didn't think about me. You thought about yourself—"

"Sam. So help me God, I'm about three seconds away from punching you in the face."

"Then go ahead. Do it. You know I'm right, Dean. You tricked me into being Gadreel's vessel, and because of _that,_ I no longer trust you."

Dean's expression faltered. He let out a scoff of disbelief, his head shaking in refusal. "You don't mean that."

"For the first time, I actually do. I don't trust you, Dean, and to tell you the truth, I don't think I'll ever be able to see past all this."

"What are you trying to say, Sam?" Dean eyed his brother questioningly.

"I'm saying..." Sam paused. He swallowed hard, then expelled a burdened sigh. "I'm saying I can't forgive you."

The impact of Sam's word had felt like a hard blow to the face. Dean stared at his brother, jaw set into a hard line. He'd been thrown aback by the honesty in his voice.

"So that's it then?" he spoke, sounding resigned. "You're just gonna leave?"

"I'm gonna go after Gadreel."

"What?" Dean's eyes widened. "That dude's gone off the rails. He'll kill you first chance he gets."

"I know."

"Dammit, Sam. This is suicide—"

"Look," Sam cut in. "I've already made up my mind about it. I'm gonna find him and put an end to all this. For my sake, I have to."

Dean looked upon him in panic. "You can't go at it alone. Let me come with you; we'll gank that son of a bitch together."

"No. I have to do this alone." Sam stepped away to sweep up his duffel bag into his hands. He threw the strap over his shoulder, adjusting his jacket before brushing past Dean on his way to the door.

"Sam! Come on, don't do this, man."

He stopped just inside the doorway of his bedroom.

"You need me. You need me and you know it."

Slowly, Sam turned his head to steal a final glance at his brother. He surveyed the look of desperation in his eyes and shook his head as he reached a hand into the left pocket of his jacket.

"I don't need you." Fishing out the Impala's shiny set of keys, he gently tossed them onto the desk. "Not anymore."

Dean stood frozen in place. As he watched his brother disappear down the hall, his chest swelled with a variety of emotions he couldn't fully decipher. He didn't know how long he stood there for, but when his feet finally carried him out of the room, he quietly made his way through the bunker.

When he stepped into the library, he noticed the rest of Sam's belongings—like his laptop and tablet—were gone. He looked around. He approached one of the tables, his hands reaching to steady himself as they gripped the back of a chair. Dean bowed his head.

"You stupid, ungrateful son of a bitch."

His fingers locked around the chair. He clenched his jaw as he held onto it with white-knuckled force. A steady trembling rocked his entire being. He breathed in as a surge of heat gathered in his chest. The pit in his stomach seemed to further expand with his bubbling rage, and it was taking him everything not to snap.

Luckily, something happened that momentarily distracted him. The sound of the iron door leading out of the bunker creaked open. He snapped his head up, expecting to see his brother returning.

The soft patter of steady footsteps reached his ears before the figure of a woman appeared on the staircase. He watched her descend, her eyes casting a curious look around her surroundings. She reached the final landing, fixing him a warm smile as her eyes met his.

"Hey."

"Hey," Dean gruffly acknowledged.

"Sorry to barge in like this. You were taking a while, and I just couldn't help myself. I had to see what this place was all about." Slowly, she circled the operations room. "I gotta say, Winchester. I'm jealous."

Alaine studied all the outdated equipment around her. There was a glint of excitement in her eyes as she swept her hands along the switchboard operator.

"Man, this is so cool. How old is this? I wonder if it even runs anymore."

"It doesn't."

Alaine turned to glance at Dean. She cast him an expectant look, urging him to explain.

"None of this stuff works. This place is more like a museum if you ask me."

"That's a bummer."

Dean studied her. She continued to move around the room. She stopped at the oval table in the center to inspect the giant world map displayed across it. She leaned forward, her fingers moving to tuck her hair behind her ear.

"Whoa. This is seriously awesome. How long have you been living here?"

"Close to a year now."

Alaine picked up one of the ancient tomes sitting on the table. She turned it around in her hands before delving into its pages. "I'm sure there has to be some crazy story behind you guys finding this place."

"Listen, Alaine..." She met his gaze again, forcing him to let out a heavy sigh. He moved from his place inside of the library to join her in the adjoining room. "I hate to sound like a dick, but now ain't a good time. I know you wanted the grand tour and all..."

"Oh. I take it things didn't go too well with Sam?"

Dean's expression hardened. "I'd rather not talk about it."

Alaine nodded in understanding. She fixed him a small smile in hopes of masking her disappointment. "I get it. You want me to go."

For some strange, unknown reason, the thought of Alaine leaving didn't sit right with him. Probably because that wasn't what he wanted at all.

"I guess we'll have to rain-check on that home-cooked dinner too. Damn, I was really looking forward to seeing you slave over a hot stove."

Reluctantly, she set the book back down. She noticed there was a pen sitting on the table near a stack of papers. She thought for a moment.

"Alaine, wait. I—"

"How about I leave you my number? Whenever you get out of this funk you're in, you give me a call."

Dean watched her scribble down a set of numbers across a sheet of paper. She wrote her name next to it in the finest handwriting he'd ever seen, topping it off with a little smiley face. She then capped the pen, and turned to look at him.

"It was really good seeing you again, Dean." A meaningful smile pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Alaine—"

She took notice of the change in his rugged voice. He stepped forward, hands at his sides as an emotion she couldn't quite figure out danced around in his gaze.

"Don't go."

"I thought you wanted me to leave."

A slow smile crept along his lips. "I never said that."

Alaine blinked. "Really? I jumped the gun, didn't I?"

“Always with the assumptions. Looks like someone hasn't changed."

A wide grin broke out on her face. She whacked him over the shoulder and laughed. "Yeah, and you're still a pain in the ass."

"Can't say you're wrong."

"Alright, Winchester. Now that we've established that you _do_ want my company, does that mean I get my tour now?"

"Not necessarily." Dean smiled. "There's something I want to ask you, just don't take it the wrong way."

"Okay, like that doesn't sound the least bit suspicious."

"Hear me out. It's something I've been mullin' over since we left Tennessee."

Alaine regarded him apprehensively. "I'm listening."

Again, the unknown emotion she'd seen in his eyes moments earlier flickered across his features once more. It was just for a fleeting moment. She studied him curiously as he brought himself to say whatever it was he had circling around in his mind.

"Alright. I'm just gonna come out with it...I think you should move in."

Alaine's pulse came to a screeching halt. "I'm sorry. What?"

"I was thinking about how you were tellin' me you had no place to go, and how you've been bouncin' around for years. I know how tough it is not having a real roof over your head. This place...it ain't much, but there's a bunch of empty rooms with beds in 'em. You could, I don't know...settle in, make this place your home for as long as you want."

"Dean..." Alaine paused to study the sincerity in his eyes. She'd spoken a little about her life while they'd been driving down to Kansas. She didn't tell him much, but the little she revealed was enough to earn his pity. That was the last thing she wanted. "I don't know."

"Listen, if it's me you're worried about—"

"No. No, that's not it."

"I know this is a lot to process. Hell, now that I think about it, I kinda feel stupid for even asking."

She smiled. "Don't. I appreciate the gesture."

Dean's expression shifted into something more serious. "You probably think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"I've always thought you were a little nutty."

"Yeah, thanks."

Alaine sighed. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket and rocked back on her heels. She cast another look around her, taking into consideration the offer Dean just placed before her. _There was no way she could pass this up, pity or not._

"You know, I can't say the idea of living here doesn't excite me. This place...it's like a hunter's dream come to life."

"So, is that a yes?"

Alaine had already made up her mind. She smiled at Dean. "I guess I do need a more permanent place to stay, and it's not like we're strangers."

"Smart girl."

"But before anything, we're gonna have to set some ground rules. I am a woman after all, and don't think for a second that I haven't heard the tales of your many escapades. Your name has a habit of getting around a lot."

Dean raised up his hands in defense. "Don't worry. I'll be on my best behavior."

*     *     *

Dean hadn't cooked dinner like Alaine had hoped. It had already been late, and by the time she'd been finished dragging in her belongings from her car and setting herself up in one of of the bedrooms, it was well past midnight. She'd been given a brief tour and was shown to the kitchen, shower rooms, and surprisingly the gun range before Dean disappeared out of the bunker on a food run.

She'd taken the time to shower and change into more comfortable clothes before deciding to further explore her new home. She wandered aimlessly through the halls, peeking past every closed door she came across. She was amazed at how big the bunker was, and how many cool things laid hidden within it. She found an archives room with hundreds of files and books written by a group of scholars called the Men of Letters. Dean had given her a brief rundown on their history, and how he and Sam were something called _legacies._ He'd seemed so excited to talk about it. 

After an hour or so, Alaine found herself in the kitchen. There'd been a few dishes sitting in the sink that she decided to do Dean the favor of washing. She also took care of cleaning out the fridge of old take-out cartons and expired food. 

By the time Dean returned, Alaine had settled herself into one of the leather chairs in the library. She had her legs thrown over the armrest while she read through the pages of a book on Pagan gods. She'd heard when the bunker's door slammed shut, and peaked hear head out from around the chair to glance into the operations room. 

"Alaine? You out here?" 

She watched Dean come down the stairs. In his hands he held several grocery bags. Setting her book down, she clambered out of her seat and rushed out to meet him halfway. 

"I'm here. Come, let me help you with those. You look like you're about to keel over." 

Alaine strutted over to Dean. He stopped at the bottom landing, turning to cast a glance her way. He froze, his eyes falling to her chosen attire. She was wearing black sleep shorts. The thin, cotton material hugged the wide expanse of her hips, and displayed to his full view the silky, tanned skin of her thick thighs. Although there was nothing really special about what she was wearing, Dean couldn't deny that she looked absolutely breathtaking.

He took a moment to compose himself. He cleared his throat and plastered a smile to his face as she drew close. 

"Uh, thanks. I could really use a hand."

"No problem."

Outstrecthing his right arm, Dean held out the groceries for her to take. She approached, and carefully pried them out of his grasp. As she stood before him, his six-foot frame towering over her relatively smaller one, Dean was smacked with a mind-numbing fragrance that wafted into his nose. 

It was the most intoxicating thing he'd ever smelled. It was a well-blended combination of lavender and sandalwood that seemed to cling to her skin. He wasn't sure if it was a perfume, or some kind of lotion, but whatever it was, it managed to put him under its spell. 

"Hey, earth to Dean. You there?" 

Dean blinked, snapping himself back into focus. "Sorry. What'd you say?" 

"I was asking you if you'd like me to put the groceries away." 

Alaine eyed him curiously. He'd seemed a bit flustered from her perspective, which sounded absolutely ridiculous when she thought about it. _Dean Winchester? Nervous?_ She observed the hunter's eyes quickly dart away from her face, as if an attempt to look at anything else but her. He cleared his throat once again. 

"Sure. You can do that. I, uh...I'm gonna go take a shower and hit the sack. Today's been a real long day."

"Okay."

He fixed her a sidelong glance, smiling awkwardly. "Okay."

Without another word, Dean sauntered off towards the kitchen to deposit the remaining bags of groceries before heading to his bedroom. 

About an hour later, Alaine found herself walking the halls. She'd finished up stocking the fridge with all of the food Dean had purchased, and was ready to head off to bed. As she wandered down the corridor, she noticed the door to his bedroom had been left slightly ajar. She decided to stop by to stay goodnight before going to her room. Quietly, she approached. She wasn't sure if he'd fallen asleep, so she carefully peeked through the crack in the door. 

The light from the overhead lamp cast a yellow glow. It covered Dean's relaxed features in delicate shadows that accentuated the sharp angles of his face. He was resting over his bed, his back propped up against a pillow. His fingers were laced together over his torso. He was staring up at the ceiling, a pair of headphones sitting on his head. 

Alaine figured he'd showered like he had said. He no longer wore the flannel and jeans from today, but instead a plain black t-shirt and a pair of matching boxer-briefs. His long, bowed legs were outstretched on the mattress, his skin pulled taut over the strong muscles of his thighs. From where she stood, she was greatful she hadn't gotten an eyeful of his nether region. It was a bit dark, so the only thing she could make out with clarity was his face. 

Raising a hand, she pushed the door open a bit. The movement had caught his attention from across the room, prompting his gaze to snap over to where Alaine now stood just inside the doorway. She smiled warmly as he pulled the headphones down to rest around his neck. 

"Hey. Did you need something?" 

Alaine shook her head. "No. I was on my way to bed when I noticed your door was open. I just wanted to check in on you, and say goodnight." 

"Oh." Dean returned her smile with one of his own. "Alright. Goodnight then."

"Night." She turned to leave, but paused. "You know," she said, glancing over at him. "I'm really glad we ran into each other. I've been on my own for so long. Having a friend again...feels pretty refreshing. Thanks for letting me stay here, Dean. I honestly appreciate it." 

"You went out of your way to drive sixteen hours just to bring me back home. I thought offering you a place to stay would be better than a tour, or a one-time meal."

Alaine chuckled. "You got that right. Best thing about it is, I can now force you to cook for me whenever I want."

"Oh, you don't gotta force me, sweetheart. It'll be my pleasure. I mean, it's the least I can do."

"Looks like you haven't changed a bit, Winchester." She smiled. "Get some shut-eye, I'll see you in the morning."


	4. IV

_**Four** _

It was close to noon when Alaine climbed out of bed the next day. She'd lazily dragged herself out of her room after brushing her teeth, and sauntered through the halls towards the kitchen. She'd gotten lost twice, taking a couple of wrong turns and ending up at the gun range. After taking some time to retrace her steps from the day before, she found her way and was in a pretty grumpy mood by the time she reached her destination.

To her surprise, she found that Dean had yet to emerge from his room. The rest of the bunker was silent, except for the occasionally rumbling of the old pipes in the walls. She quietly ate her breakfast in the kitchen, washed her dish then returned to her room to change into different clothes.

She pulled on a pair of jeans along with a plain white t-shirt and settled herself at the desk tucked into the corner of the bedroom. She'd fired up her laptop, and was amazed to find that the bunker in fact had a Wi-Fi signal. She then wasted no time in scouring the web in search of a new case.

After an hour of reading countless online articles and news reports, she stumbled upon something seemingly supernatural. She carefully read the police report she'd found, and made sure all of the information checked out before she scooped up her laptop and stood up.

Back in the kitchen, Dean had settled down at the table with a cup of coffee in his hand. He'd taken a few sips, and sat in comfortable silence. He'd woken up not too long ago and had gotten himself dressed, yet still felt the heaviness of sleep weighing over him. Moving his cup aside, Dean yawned before propping an arm up onto the table to rest his head against.

He wasn't aware of how much time had passed, nor that he'd fallen asleep. He could distantly hear a feminine voice calling out to him. It was soft, and seemed so far away. He felt himself being lulled into a deep slumber, that is until the force of a hand jerking his shoulder startled him awake.

Disoriented, Dean snapped upright in his seat. "What? I'm up. I...I wasn't sleeping."

The sound of laughter tickled his ears. He looked up to find Alaine standing beside him, a radiant smile gracing her face.

"Looks like someone had a rough night."

Dean squinted his eyes. He dragged a palm down the length of his face to scratch at the stubble along his jaw. "Yeah. I couldn't sleep...had a lot on my mind."

"Wanna talk about it?"

"No." He offered her a small smile. "I'm good now."

"You sure?"

Dean nodded. "What's that you got there?"

He'd gestured to the laptop tucked underneath her arm. Eagerly, Alaine set it down in front of him. She opened it up, and navigated back onto the web page she'd been on moments before.

"Take a look at this."

Tiredly, Dean rubbed at his eyes. He focused his attention onto the screen and began reading the article Alaine had pulled up for him to see.

"What's this about?"

"Haunted ranch in Chambers, Arizona."

Dean leaned forward in his seat. He used his index finger on the mouse pad to scroll down the web page. He felt Alaine brush past him to take a seat at the table. She settled herself next to him while he continued to read.

"What's the story?" he asked.

Alaine went on to explain what she'd uncovered.

The Cloverfield Ranch had been built in the early 1920's. Throughout the years, the ranch had various families inhabit it, but only one out of the many had stood out to the public eye. The Harrison family consisted of three children—a thirteen-year-old boy, a ten-year-old girl, and a nine-month-old infant. Jeremiah Harrison, the father of the two youngest children, had been know to be extremely violent, and a chronic drunk.

One night after drinking himself into oblivion, Jeremiah went into the den where his wife and children were, unmounted his fully loaded rifle from the fireplace, and shot his family dead in cold blood. He went on to take his own life the same night, and the bloody scene hadn't been discovered until the following morning when the maid awoke.

The ranch, not too far off Interstate 10, was known to attract tourists. After the Harrison murder-suicide in the late fifties, the place had been abandoned in completion. However, for sixty years, several disappearances had been reported in the area, none of them ever being properly investigated.

"Locals say the guy's ghost is behind all those disappearances. I'd say they're right given the nature of his death and the events that led up to it. We might be dealing with a vengeful spirit here."

"Sounds about right." Dean closed the laptop and reached for his coffee. "I'll check it out."

Alaine clasped her hands together in excitement. "Great! If we leave in the next hour, we can probably get there by two a.m tomorrow. That's if we don't make too many pit stops along the way."

A small frown settled into the creases of Dean's forehead . He glanced at her briefly, then flickered his attention away.

Alaine had noticed the shift in his demeanor. His shoulders tensed, and the muscle in his jaw seemed to be clenched tightly in thought. She studied him carefully.

"Hey, you okay?"

There were a few passing seconds of silence between them before his head turned and his eyes found hers. He held her stare for a moment, allowing his gaze to peer into the depths of her amber irises.

His frown deepened. "You'd be better off stayin' here."

Alaine arched a brow. She looked as if she'd misheard him. "Wait...what did you say?"

Chugging down the remnants of his coffee, the hunter slowly stood from his seat. He left his empty cup over the table as he strolled off towards the kitchen's doorway. In a haste, Alaine scrambled up onto her feet and bolted after him in efforts of stopping Dean in his tracks. As he stepped out into the corridor, she latched a hand onto his shoulder, forcibly turning him around to face her.

"Hold on just a damn second, Dean. What the hell did you mean by ' _I'd be better off here?_ You better not be trying to steal my case, because if you are, you're gonna have to fight me for it."

Dean peered down at her. His brows furrowed. "I'm not trying to take your case. I'm sayin' you shouldn't go."

"Why not?" she protested. "I've dealt with ghosts before. It's not like I'm inexperienced. You've no idea the things I've killed, alright? I know what the hell I'm doing."

"I don't doubt it."

Alaine folded her arms across her chest, and shot him an angry glare. "Is this some sort of sexist thing? You think women can't do the job? You think I'm not a good-enough hunter?"

"You're jumpin' the gun. Again."

"Right," she scoffed.

"It has nothin' to do with sexism."

"Enlighten me then, Dean. You're trying to tell me not to go on the job _I_ found. Why's that?"

Dean let out an exasperated sigh. He muttered an oath under his breath, his hand moving to rub at his face.

"Listen, if it's because you're worried, don't be. I've been hunting on my own for years. I can pull my own weight. Now, before this turns into a fight, pack your damn bags and get the car."

"Alaine. You don't get it, I'm trying to keep you safe," Dean went on to stress. "People around me always end up drawing the short end of the stick, alright? I'm like this...bad luck charm or something. Like a walking friggin' curse."

"You're thinking I'm gonna end up getting hurt."

"Or worse."

"Since when have you been this paranoid?"

A somber look shadowed over his face. "Don't ask."

"Alright, we're not doing this. I'm going on that case."

"Alaine, listen to me. You shouldn't—"

Before Dean could come out with another objection, Alaine's hand jutted out to silence him. She pressed her index finger to his lips, cutting him off mid sentence.

"Shut up and get the car," she ordered.

Dean's following actions came as a reflex. Without him realizing what he was doing, he felt his fingers curl around her wrist. They latched on tight, and with a gentle yet firm tug, he pulled her hand away from his face. He'd stepped forward, closing the gap of distance until it felt like they were breathing the same air.

Dean's sudden movements had come to a complete to surprise to Alaine. She'd looked up at him, eyes widened a fraction as he took away whatever sense of space she'd felt she had. It was if he was stepping _into_ her with the way his scent invaded her very being. Had it not been for the fact Dean was currently gripping onto her hand, she was sure she would've fallen on her ass. The heat emanating from his body crashed over her in one swooping wave. It was electrifying, and awoke something in her she hadn't felt since the last time she saw him all those years ago.

It was the magnetic pull; the powerful charge that had first drawn them together.

Little was she aware that Dean had sensed the very same thing. It'd shot down his spine like a debilitating surge of electricity. He was unaware of just how close their bodies were until he felt the gentle brush of her breasts across his torso as she breathed in.

As quick as he'd grabbed her, Dean removed his grip from around her wrist. He watched her hand return to its place at her side.

"I never thought I'd like being bossed around."

Alaine couldn't mistake the seductive purr in his gravelly voice. It damn near made her knees buckle. In attempt to hide the fact that being so close to him had turned her into a flustered mess, she put on a brave front by fixing him a challenging smile in return.

"Better start getting used to it, Winchester."

He chuckled, a sound more arousing than anything she'd ever heard in her life. It made her insides clench in delight as a slow smirk crept onto his plump lips.

"Yes, ma'am."

*     *     *

The half day drive to Arizona had been a quiet one for the most part. Sitting mostly in silence, Dean and Alaine hadn't really exchanged more than a few passing words between each other, being that they were both too tired to even speak. The only audible noise was the gentle purring of the engine as Dean guided his car down the slick dark road, his fingers wrapped firmly around the leather steering wheel. Alaine looked out from the passenger window to study the passing scenery.

"How much longer?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

Pulling his gaze away from the road, Dean gave her a sidelong glance. She was leaning against the door, her head pressed into the glass. She looked just as tired as he felt.

"Just a couple more more hours."

Alaine groaned softly in protest. "I can't do this. I'm going to sleep. Wake me up when we get there."

"Hey, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Well, for starters, I need you to keep me awake. I've been driving for ten hours straight."

"Thats because you won't let me get behind the wheel."

"Not everyone knows how to handle Baby. You need to have chemistry with her before I let you jump in the driver’s seat."

Alaine laughed. "I think we've bonded enough in the past, don't you? I mean...she's seen me naked. I don't think you can get any closer than that."

Dean's pulse lurched. Heat surfaced along his skin. It crawled up the back of his neck, and spread across his face to settle at his cheeks. He stole a glance at Alaine to see if she was looking at him. To his mortification, her eyes were glued to him. He awkwardly cleared his throat, his grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"I, uh...I guess you have a point."

"You know, that actually makes me wonder how many other women Baby's _bonded_ with. Have you let them behind the wheel?"

"No. I, um..." Dean cleared his throat again. "Why don't you get some rest. I'll wake you up when we're close."

"But I thought you wanted me to keep you up."

This had been true a moment ago, but because of the inappropriate images  relating to Alaine plaguing his thoughts, Dean found himself now wide awake in more ways than one.

"It's fine. You get your rest."

"Suit yourself."

After what felt like endless hours of driving, the Impala had finally rolled to a stop just outside of a roadside motel. It was roughly close to two in the morning when Dean turned over the engine and pulled his keys out of the ignition.

"Hey. We're here."

He gently shook Alaine, coaxing her awake. Her eyes fluttered open from the passenger seat, and she cast a confused glance around before finding Dean. She stretched and yawned, forcing herself to sit upright.

"What time is it?" she croaked.

Dean stole a glance at his wristwatch. "Ten to two. Come on, help me get our stuff out the trunk."

The pair vacated the Impala to collect their belongings. Once securing the vehicle and making sure all doors were locked, they ambled over to the check-in office at the front of the motel.

The soft chime of the bell above the door announced their presence as Dean and Alaine walked in. The young blonde that'd been sitting at the reception desk picked her head up to welcome them. She smiled, her eyes meeting Alaine's.

"Hello, there. What can I do for you?"

"One double, please."

The woman cast a brief glance in Dean's direction. She took in his rugged appearance, a small blush forming on her cheeks. She turned her attention back onto Alaine, and offered her an apologetic smile that came off more awkward than anything else.

"I'm sorry. We only have a single available."

"Really? Well, does it at least have a pull-out bed?"

"Unfortunately, it does not."

Alaine frowned. She muttered an oath under her breath. _So, Dean and her were going to have to share a bed?_

The mere thought of it sent her nerves into overdrive. She cast a tentative look behind her to find Dean standing by the door, flipping through the pages of an old Cosmopolitan magazine.

_It can't be that bad. It's not like we don't know each other..._

She sighed in resignation. "We'll take it."

After handling the check-in process, the hunters received two electronic keycards and were given their room number. Conveniently, it was located only three doors down from the office.

Once they walked inside, they settled their belongings onto the small desk, then proceeded to make themselves comfortable. Dean stripped out of his jacket and flannel, and pulled off his boots.

Alaine on the other hand had slipped into the cozy little bathroom to change out of her clothes. She changed into a baggy t-shirt, and pulled on her shorts before making her way over to the bed. She was beyond exhausted, and had hardly noticed Dean trying to get her attention until he suddenly appeared beside her.

"Hey. I just wanted to let you know that I'm fine with sleeping on the floor. I'll just need a pillow."

"What?" Alaine turned to look up at him. She frowned softly, her gaze briefly falling to the ground. She wiggled her toes against the hard carpet. "I was actually going to say we can share the bed."

"Really?"

"Yeah. There's more than enough room for the both of us on it."

Dean regarded her with wide eyes as another blush traveled up the back of his neck. "You sure about this? I wouldn't want for you to feel uncomfortable or anything."

Alaine offered him a lazy smile in reassurance. "It'll be fine as long as you keep your hands to yourself. Think you can manage, Winchester?"

He was almost sure there'd been a hint of challenge in her eyes, as if somewhere deep inside of her she dared him to do the exact opposite. He merely brushed off the thought, refusing to even entertain the unlikely possibility.

"You don't gotta worry about me. Soon as my head touches that pillow, I'll be out light a light."

"Good. I'm gonna go to sleep now."

Stepping away, she climbed up into the king-sized bed. She slipped underneath the covers, pulling them up around her shoulders as she nuzzled into the pillows. She'd closed her eyes, yet could hear Dean as he maneuvered around the room. There was a distinct sound, the rustle of fabric indicating he was ridding himself of his jeans before the bed dipped with the weight of his body settling across it.

It was now dark in their room, and oddly enough, Alaine felt as if every one of her senses had been heightened. She was hyperaware of Dean's presence next to her on the bed. They both had claimed a side of their own, leaving a great deal of space in between them. A pricking sensation traveled along her spine.

"Hey, Alaine?"

Reflexively, her insides clenched at the sound of his whiskey voice whispering her name.

"Yeah?"

The mattress moved slightly as he adjusted himself to lay on his back. He cast a glance her way, his eyes finding the back of her head in the dark.

"I just thought I'd warn you. I have a habit of snorin' sometimes, like real loud."

Alaine couldn't help the smile that rose to her lips. "How loud is ' _real_ _loud_ '?"

"I've been told it's a cross between a grizzly bear and an elephant seal...whatever the hell that sounds like."

"Let me guess, was it Sam who told you that?"

"The guy's put up with it for years, so I guess he'd know what he's talking about."

Shifting around, Alaine turned to face him. The soft light streaming into the room from the bathroom highlighted his features enough for her to make out the look of amusement on his face.

"I'm sure I've heard worse, so don't worry."

From across the bed, Dean watched her blink sleepily before letting out a long yawn. She rubbed at her eyes, smiling as she nuzzled deeper into her pillow.

"Get some sleep. We're gonna have to get up early tomorrow."

Eyes closed, Alaine nodded. "Roger that. Goodnight, Dean."

"Night."


	5. V

**_Five_ **

"Hey, sleepy-head. Come on. It's time to get up."

Groaning her dissatisfaction at being forced out of her deep slumber, Alaine shoved her face into her pillow. She reached behind her, her hand blindly jabbing at the immovable pillar of muscle and flesh standing at her side of the bed.

"Go away," she grumbled in annoyance.

"Alaine. I gave you fifteen minutes."

"Give me fifteen more."

The sound of Dean's sonorous laughter reached her ears. It made her feel warm and tingly all over. _Hell, she wouldn't mind waking up like this for now on..._

"Don't make me force you up out of this bed," he warned, his voice playful.

Smiling to herself, Alaine flipped him off. "Good luck trying."

The hunter let out a long sigh. "Fine, have it your way. Guess your breakfast's gonna get cold."

"Wait." Her attention now grasped, Alaine scrambled up into a sitting position. Her disheveled hair flew all around her face as she lifted her head to glance up at Dean. "You bought me food?"

"Yeah, and if you don't get out of this bed, I'm gonna be left with no choice but to eat it all."

Alaine gasped, feigning shock. "You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, but I would. Now, come on. Move your ass. We've got places to go."

Depositing a warm paper bag into her lap, Dean turned to walk away.

"Hey," Alaine called after him, her eyes falling to her packaged meal. "No coffee?"

"Look on the nightstand."

She flickered her gaze over to the little bedside table. There was a large paper cup with a plastic top sitting right there, waiting for her. She reached out and wrapped her hands around it, her palms immediately absorbing the warmth radiating from her caffeinated beverage. She stole another glance at Dean, and couldn't help but admire the sight before her.

The man was decked out in a tailored two-piece suit. The black trousers seemed to emphasize every inch of his lower body, the material hugging his firm ass perfectly. She hid her smirk behind the rim of her cup as she sipped at her coffee. The blazer he wore along with the gray dress shirt and charcoal tie made him look good enough to eat.

Her previous appetite for food now almost forgotten, she continued to observe him all the while trying to fend off the inappropriate thoughts invading her head.

_Damn if he doesn't look fine as hell..._

"You know I can feel you starin', right?"

Alaine choked on her coffee. She coughed, tears pricking the corner of her eyes. "What? I wasn't—"

Dean turned around, fixing her a knowing look. "Yes, you were. I got this sixth sense when it comes to girls checkin' me out."

"I wasn't checking you out!" Alaine blurted with a wheezing cough. She felt her cheeks redden as a blush quickly rose to the surface.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

She grumbled a string of expletives under her breath as Dean disappeared into the bathroom.

When it was time for them to head out, the pair had clambered into the Impala and drove off towards the nearest Sheriff's station to gain some insight on the case. Posing as Agents Douglas and Rhodes, they sought out information from the officers in regards to all of the past disappearances on the ranch's grounds. However, none of them had been remotely helpful. They even requested to speak to the Sheriff, and after half an hour, came out knowing just as much as they'd known going in.

They decided to move onto plan B. They hit up the town hall, and pulled out old records from the archives. Not much could be found on the property except for what Dean and Alaine already knew. They'd spent yet another thirty minutes reading through pointless documents before heading over to the local library. There, they looked at old articles and missing persons' reports, and gathered it'd be best to question the townsfolk next.

It was around sundown when they finally got their first lead. After speaking to some of the locals, they found out that there was one thing all of the police reports neglected to mention: the time of disappearance.

At around midnight, whoever ventured out to the Cloverfield Ranch, whether alone or with company, never made it back home come morning the next day.

"It makes sense," Alaine had spoken up from the passenger seat in the Impala. "Midnight is when paranormal activity usually kicks-off. If we go there tonight, we'll surely come across something."

"You're right." Dean had been focusing on the road. He cast her a sidelong glance. "Let's get the son of bitch before he hurts anyone else."

"Agreed."

When the pair arrived back at the motel, they quickly changed out of their FBI getup. They threw on more comfortable clothes, and packed a bag full of all of the essential things they'd need to fend off a ghost. It was all a matter of waiting afterwards. They sat around the room, ate some dinner consisting of burgers and fries from the fast food joint up the road, and talked all just to kill time. When they noticed it was nearing twelve o'clock, they hoped back into the Impala and drove off towards the ranch.

 

*    *    *

"You have your spare gun?"

"Yeah."

"You got enough rounds?"

"Yes."

"Do you have—"

"Dammit, Dean," Alaine interrupted with a grunt of annoyance. "This isn't my first hunt. There's no need to go over a damned checklist."

"I'm just trying make sure you're not goin' in there half-cocked."

Loading the last rock salt cartridge into her sawed off, she cast Dean a quick glance. "Thanks for the concern. I'll be fine."

Sighing to himself, Dean watched as she sauntered off towards the abandoned ranch. He slammed the trunk shut, his eyes scanning his surroundings before he clicked on his flashlight and trailed after Alaine.

The sound of dirt crunching under heavy boots was the only audible noise throughout the night aside from the nearby crickets, and the distant rattling of cargo trucks that drove past on the highway. He shone some light on the decaying building to illuminate a path for them.

Reaching the front porch, they carefully climbed the steps. They eased their way into the ranch through the door hanging off its rusted hinges. The floorboards creaked underneath them as Dean followed Alaine into the foyer.

"Looks like a tornado hit this place," he spoke up from behind her. He flashed his flashlight on the ground, side-stepping the gaping holes in the floor. "Let's split up; we'll cover more ground that way."

Alaine nodded, turning to head down a separate path. "Sounds good. I'll stay here while you check out the barn."

"Call me if you run into any trouble."

"Will do."

The sound of Dean's retreating steps echoed from behind her as he turned to leave the main house. Turning on her own flashlight, she ventured deeper into the home. She headed down a hallway that lead to a huge parlor room. There sat an old, rusted piano along with some broken furniture, a worn out rug and a portrait of the last owners of the ranch.

She tucked her flashlight under her arm as she walked over towards the corner of the room. She knelt before the massive frame, dusting it off with the palm of her free hand. Once the cloud of dust dispersed, she took the time to examine the faces of each family member in the painting.

She noticed everyone bore smiling expressions. The father, Jeremiah, his wife, and his two loving children all seemed happy. When she looked upon the face of the young man standing beside Mrs. Harrison, her brows furrowed together in confusion. Unlike the rest of the family, misery and malice could be seen in his dark eyes.

"What the hell?"

Just as she leaned closer to better study the boy's chilling expression, the sound of a floorboard creaking emerged from the adjoining room. She froze, her instincts now on full-alert.

To her knowledge, old homes like this had a habit of making kinds strange sounds. Still, she was smart enough not to let her guard down.

Rising back onto her feet, Alaine readied her shotgun. She carefully made her way back into the hallway, her flashlight shining around in the dark before she ambled towards the back of the house. Along the way, she stopped to look inside of every room. Most of them were empty, except for the few pieces of old furniture lying around.

It wasn't long until the usual, eerie feeling crept into her bones. An involuntary shiver raked over her. She sighed, her warm breath forming a small cloud before her eyes as the temperature around her significantly dropped.

She found herself coming upon a broken staircase leading up to the second floor. As she moved to take the first step, a sudden chill shot down her spine. It forced her to come to an abrupt halt as the hairs at the back of her neck stood on end.

"I know you're here you twisted son of a bitch." Adjusting her flashlight wedged into her armpit, she held up her shotgun, her finger hovering over the trigger. Slowly, she turned around.

Her gaze traveled the length of the hallway. At the end of it, she could see where the foyer was, and the entrance to the parlor room. With caution, she retraced her steps towards the front of the house.

"Come on," she called out into the depths of the abandoned home. "Show yourself!"

She took another step forward, the floor creaking underneath her weight.  She tightened her grip around her shotgun when out of nowhere, a gust of wind swept past her. She stopped just as the warm breath of someone  standing behind her fanned across the back of her neck.

A sense of unease surfaced inside of her. She closed her eyes, her mouth drawing in a deep breath.

"I can feel you," she murmured before turning around to face what she assumed had to be the spirit of Jeremiah Harrison.

*     *     *

Dean had been wandering around the barn aimlessly for over fifteen minutes. There was nothing out of the ordinary there. He sighed, taking another glance at his watch before deciding to search another part of the grounds. As he left the building, the sudden vibrating of his phone in his pocket caught his attention. Holding his shotgun and flashlight in one hand, he reached into his jacket to pull out the device.

There was an incoming call from Alaine. He swiped his thumb across the screen before bringing the phone up to his face.

"Don't tell me. You ran into trouble, didn't you?"

 _"Dean!"_ Alaine's panicked voice came through the call. She grunted in pain as a rush of breath escaped her. _"It's not Jeremiah's ghost we're dealing with."_

Dean came to a stop. His brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

Again, another agonized sound left Alaine as she struggled to speak. _"It's not him. We got it all wrong."_

"Who the hell is it then?"

For a moment, Dean could hear nothing. He pulled his phone away to check if the call had dropped, but saw that his signal was still going strong. Panic soaring through him, he doubled back towards the house, his boots kicking up clouds of dust behind him as he ran.

"Alaine? Alaine, where are you? Dammit...talk to me!"

 _"I'm...I'm in the cellar,"_ finally came her voice in labored breaths. _"I...fell through the floor. Everything hurts."_

"Don't move, okay? I'm comin' to get you. Just stay put."

_"Dean...he's coming back. I...I can feel him."_

A trail of expletives left his mouth in a rush. "Alaine. Listen to me. You gotta hold him off, you understand? Hold him off 'til I get there."

_"No. You...need to find his remains. Find it...before he comes. Please..."_

"Who's remains?" Dean demanded. "Who are we dealing with, Alaine?"

There was a short pause before he heard her speak again in a terrified whisper. _"The son's. The eldest son. It was him. He...killed the entire family before...killing himself. Hurry, Dean."_

"Where do I find the remains?"

_"They're...buried. By the old well. The graves were...all marked except for Jeremiah's. The eldest was buried next to his mother. Salt and burn the bones. I don't have much time left."_

"Alaine—"

A sense of fear gripped him as the line suddenly went dead. Having no time to waste, Dean bolted past the house towards his Impala. He quickly dove into the trunk to assemble together a bag of the things he needed. He grabbed up a shovel, some salt, lighter fluid and a few more rock salt rounds before heading off towards the old family well.

Back at the house, Alaine struggled to gather the strength to pick herself up from the ground. Every muscle in her body screamed in agony as she forced herself to sit upright. With the light from her phone, she used it to try to find her shotgun among the piles or rubble around her. She saw that it had landed a couple of feet away from where she fell through the floor.

Shakily, and while fighting back the tears of pain clouding her eyes, she rose to her feet when an unseen force slammed her backwards into a wall.

She cried out only to have her scream cut off by the pair of icy cold hands wrapping around her throat. In an instant, the ghastly apparition manifested before her again, it's malevolent glare boring into her eyes.

Gasping for breath, Alaine struggled against the spirit's evil clutches. She trashed against it, her hands clawing at the solid mass in front of her. It looked upon her in with an expression of satisfaction, it's haunted features contorted into a devilish snarl of delight. She tried to scream, to call out for Dean although she knew he'd be too far away to hear her. As darkness began to creep over her, she felt her hands grow limp until they ultimately dropped to her sides. She was at the threshold of unconsciousness, possibly even death.

Acceptance washing over her, she closed her eyes.

 _This is it,_ she thought. _She was going to die here, at the hands of a demented ghost._

Her final thoughts circled around her family—her brother and father. She wondered if they'd be proud of her, of who she'd become. She pictured their loving faces bearing warm smiles as they welcomed her back home. Her mind then shifted onto the last thing she thought she'd ever think about in her dying moments.

Dean.

She thought about him. As strange as it was, she found herself thinking about how things could've turned out for them. Would they have gone on more hunts? Would they have grown as close as they'd once been? Would their friendship have rekindled the emotions from the past? Would they have become something...more?

Through the haze now settling over her, she felt a twinge of sadness in her heart. Just as her mind began to drift away from her, something happened to bring her right back.

The hands that'd been enclosed around her throat had released her. Weakly, her body came crashing down in a heap. As air flowed freely into her lungs once more, she coughed violently, her blurred vision flickering up to the apparition.

Through black spots, she could see the spirit spontaneously combust into flames. It shrieked and howled before vanishing altogether. Now left alone, Alaine leaned back against the wall, and closed her eyes in relief.

_He did it._

She wasn't aware of how long she'd been sitting on the ground for. To her, it'd felt like hours before she heard the booming sound of Dean's voice followed by a series of heavy footsteps.

"Alaine? Alaine!"

Peeking an eye open, she saw the glow from his flashlight round the corner. Her mouth dry, and her throat horse, she called out to him.

"In here."

Immediately, his figure came into view. He shuffled on over to her, his body dropping onto its knees as his hands frantically reached out for her.

"Hey, look at me!" Releasing his shotgun, Dean cupped her cheek into his palm. He held her face at an angle as he lowered his head to meet her gaze. Slowly, a weakened smile settled into the corners of her mouth. He chuckled with relief.

"Took you long enough, Winchester."

"Yeah, I had a little bit of trouble finding that well. You alright?"

Alaine nodded, her subconscious drawing her to nuzzle into warmth of his calloused hand. "I am now."

Dean's eyes flickered all over her dirt-covered face. He smiled softly. "Good. Come on, let's get you out of here."

*     *     *

  
"Alright, this is gonna hurt like a mother. You're gonna have to hold still for me."

Alaine had been sitting in a chair across from Dean inside of their motel room. She watched him rummage around inside of a small medical kit. He'd pulled out a few cotton balls along with a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and a couple of Band-Aids. Delicately, he twisted off the cap to the alcohol to soak one of the cotton balls before turning back around in his chair to face her head-on.

Alaine grit her teeth in anticipation. Slowly, he leaned in, his hand inching towards her face.

"Don't move."

Before she could better prepare herself for the pain that was to come, Dean applied the disinfectant to the wound on her forehead. Immediately, the cut sizzled and burned. She sucked in a sharp breath before letting out a hiss of pain.

"Ow, that hurts!" she whined, slapping away at his hand.

Dean sighed in mild annoyance, his brow furrowing in into a frown. "Of course it's gonna hurt. Now stop being a baby."

Reluctantly, Alaine folded her hands into her lap. "Fine."

Leaning in once again, Dean moved to clean up the dried blood surrounding the small gash. His features hardened in concentration as he drew closer. She couldn't help but squirm away again.

"Dean, wait—"

With his other hand, he held her head in place. He grabbed her jaw, forcing her to keep still. He let out an impatient huff before proceeding with his given task.

In efforts to make good out of this uncomfortable situation, Alaine decided to distract herself by staring at Dean. It was the perfect opportunity for her to study him up close.

She took the time to really observe him. She stared at his lips and their perfect shape. They were plump and pink, and looked dangerously soft. She couldn't help but wonder what they'd feel like, or taste like.

Her mind then drifted to the moment back at the bunker where they'd been this close. He'd pretty much invaded her personal space, just as he was doing now, but under different pretenses. Nonetheless, she found herself taking advantage of the moment—something she should've done the first time—to further engrave every detail of his masculine beauty into her memory.

Just like a good quality bottle of Scotch, Dean Winchester had aged _wonderfully._ There were fine wrinkles stretched across his forehead, and some etched into the corners of his eyes. His once delicate features now looked more refined with age. She noticed that with the passing years, the dusting of small freckles along his face had darkened a couple of shades. Overall, the man was a sight to marvel at, but the most beautiful thing of all were his eyes. She remembered when they'd first met all those years ago, how his stare had riveted her to the spot. To think that after so long, Dean still had that same effect on her. It felt too surreal.

Although he wasn't looking directly into her eyes, Alaine couldn't stop herself from gazing into his.

"Someone's staring again."

"Oh, can-it, Winchester. Your face just so happens to be all up in mine, so of course I'm going to be staring."

Dean's hand at her forehead pulled away. Slowly, his gaze drifted down to hers, and Alaine felt her stomach twist into a knot.

"That doesn't make it any less creepy."

Emotions betraying her, her face burned red hot with the blush of embarrassment that rose to her cheeks. She dropped her gaze to her hands sitting in her lap in hopes of hiding her expression.

To her misfortune, Dean read right through her. Palm still resting over her jaw, he pressed his thumb to her chin. He gently tilted her head upwards, his gaze searching for hers as a smile formed on his lips.

"Hey, relax. I was just joking. No need to close up on me like that."

"I wasn't closing up," she snapped, wrenching out of his grasp. "Are you done yet? I'd like to shower so I can go to bed."

"Yeah. All that's left is this." Reaching towards the table, Dean picked up one of the Band-Aids. Peeling it out of its packaging, he carefully aligned the small bandage with her cut before patting it down into place with the tips of his fingers. "There. You're all set."

"Thanks."

Refusing to meet his eyes, Alaine rose from her chair. She brushed past him, stopping to grab up her duffle bag before heading off to the bathroom and locking herself inside.

Back in the room, Dean was busy putting away his medical kit. He'd cleared off the table, and sat back down into the same chair after grabbing a beer out of the mini fridge. Minutes of silence passed. He'd stared at the blank television screen, his lips occasionally drinking from the glass bottle held firmly in his hand. He found that a sense of restlessness soon settled over him as thoughts of his brother invaded his mind. He tried to will them away, but the nagging feeling persisted. Eventually, with a sigh in resignation, Dean rose from his seat, leaving his beer forgotten on the table as his legs carried him over to the door.

He stepped out of the motel room. He didn't venture far. He put enough distance between him and the motel, enough for him to make a phone call without being overhead by anyone. With a knot in his stomach, Dean pulled out his phone. He mulled over what he was going to say before dialing his brother's number and waiting for an answer.

Unfortunately, his call had been forwarded to Sam's voicemail. He cursed under his breath. This was his third time trying to reach him. He hadn't bothered to leave any messages before, but with each passing moment, he was becoming more desperate. He decided this time he was going to leave Sam a voicemail.

"Sam, listen....I know you're mad, and I don't have the right to take that from you. I just—I need you to remember we're all we've got, come hell or high-water. We're supposed to stick together, man. We're not always gonna agree with each other, and we're gonna bump heads here and there, but ain't that what brothers do? Sammy, goin' after Gadreel...it's somethin' we should be doing _together_. I know I messed things up, and I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for lettin' you down, Sam. At the end of it all, I did what I had to do as your brother, which is put you first. I had to look after you, Sammy. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can bring your stupid ass home so we can hug this out and forget it ever happened. Don't let this come in between us, man."

*     *     *

After taking a well-needed shower, and changing into her sleep clothes, Alaine emerged from the bathroom to find the motel room empty. There was no sight of Dean. She looked around, taking in all of his belongings still where they'd been minutes ago. She figured he had to have stepped out and thought nothing of it.

Tiredly, she padded across the room to slip into bed. As she settled against the mattress, the door to the motel room opened. Almost immediately, Dean's eyes found Alaine's head peeking out from underneath the covers.

"Hey, where'd you go?"

Dean shut the door before moving further into the room. "Nowhere. Just needed to get some air."

"Oh. Do you wanna talk?"

"No. I just want some sleep."

Alaine nodded in understanding. "Okay."

After peeling off his clothes, Dean shut off the light, then climbed into his side of the bed in just a t-shirt and his underwear. He let his body sink into the mattress, a long sigh falling from his lips as his tensed muscles fell slack.

From beside him, Alaine shifted around so that her back was to him. Moments of silence passed before she heard his breathing even out. Feeling exhaustion beginning to creep over her, she welcomed the serenade of sleep and soon fell into a deep state of unconsciousness.


	6. VI

_**Six** _

The incessant blaring of a cellphone ringing in the distance startled Alaine awake. Her eyes flew open, her hand reaching for her phone on the bedside table. Upon inspection, she came to realize that it hadn't been her receiving a call so early in the morning. Dean's phone was stuffed into the pocket of his jeans draped over a chair, it's generic ringtone playing on a loop.

With a grunt of annoyance, she shifted around in bed, her body turning to face him. She'd intended to wake him, but the moment her eyes fell on him, she couldn't bring herself to do it. 

He was lying on his side. Half of his face was buried into the pillow propped underneath his head. His sculpted lips were parted slightly to accommodate his shallow breaths, and his jaw relaxed. He looked peaceful.

_And beautiful..._

The sweep of his long lashes rested delicately against his cheekbones. She couldn't stop herself from leaning in closer. She moved her gaze along the hard angles defining his face, taking her time to count the many freckles speckling across the bridge of his crooked nose.

"A picture would actually last you longer."

Slowly, Dean's lids fluttered open to reveal the dazzling green of his eyes. He smirked, his gaze settling onto the shocked expression Alaine now bore.

"What? I wasnt—"

"Staring?" Dean chuckled, his voice made huskier by morning gruffness. "I think you were."

Alaine blinked. She furrowed her brows, pulling back to sit upright. "How the hell would you even know? You were asleep."

"Half asleep," Dean corrected. "And I still got that sixth sense, remember?"

"Whatever." Mumbling under her breath, Alaine yanked the covers away from her body. She swung her legs over the side of the mattress. "By the way, your phone was ringing not too long ago."

Dean watched her climb out of bed. He propped himself up onto his elbow as a hand moved to scratch at the stubble on his jaw. "Did you answer it?"

"No."

"Did you at least see who was calling?"

"Nope."

Moving over to her duffle bag sitting atop the table, Alaine rummaged through its contents for a fresh change of clothes. She pulled out a pair of jeans along with a worn out baseball tee. Grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste, she turned to see Dean already making his way into the bathroom.

Quickly, she changed out of her sleepwear. After pulling on her boots, and putting her clothes away, she crossed the room, toiletries in hand, and waltzed right through the door.

Dean's head whirled around from where he stood, barefoot in front of the toilet. He cast a glance behind him, his eyes finding Alaine's as she carelessly stepped into the bathroom.

"Jesus. You don't knock?"

She walked up to the two-sided sink to turn on the taps. She met his stare through the reflection in the mirror and fixed him a small smirk.

"Why would I? There's nothing in here that I haven't seen before."

Dean's mouth fell agape, the words he'd planned on speaking getting logdged somewhere in the back of his throat. He stared at her, eyes widened a fraction as she cast him a teasing smile before moving to brush her teeth.

He turned away from her, composing himself before flushing the toilet and withdrawing from the bathroom. There was now a small smile on his lips as he moved around the motel room.

_Two can play at that game..._

After grabbing some clothes and a couple other things he needed, Dean reentered the bathroom. He set his stuff down on the toilet, his movements being followed by Alaine whose eyes observed him through the mirror's reflection. She'd just finished rinsing her mouth with mouthwash when she saw Dean pull his shirt up over his head.

She made a small choking sound. Spitting out the contents in her mouth, she turned off the taps to the sink, and whirled around to face Dean. She stared at him, her eyes glued to the wide expanse of his broad back. She watched the way his shoulders flexed, and how his muscles contracted underneath his freckled skin.

Although still clothed from the waist down in a pair of skin-tight boxer-briefs, the view Dean was giving her was more than enough to keep her riveted to the spot.

"Looks like someone's enjoyin' themselves. I can give you a peak of the front if you want. I mean, you said it yourself, you've seen it before. Shouldn't be that much of a big deal for you, right?"

Alaine could hear his rugged voice dripping with sarcasm. His taunting words forced a flush of heat to spread over her face.

"Oh, shut up, Winchester!"

"Hey, I just thought you'd want—"

Dean went to turn around. Alaine watched his body shift sideways. Panicked, she reached for her toothpaste and without thinking twice, she chucked it at the back of his head and stormed off.

"You're such a pig!"

*     *     *

Twenty minutes later when Dean emerge from the bathroom, showered and fully dressed, Alaine had been sitting at the small table, sorting through her weapons bag. She looked up as he approached, their gazes briefly meeting.

"Hey. Someone called you again while you were in the shower."

Dean stopped to drop his belongings into his duffel bag before turning his attention onto Alaine.

"The call came from some unknown number," she went on. "I think it's the same person from earlier."

"Where's my phone?"

Alaine reached behind her bag sitting on the table. She handed him the device. "I took it out of your pants. I was going to answer the call for you, but by the time I reached it, the phone had stopped ringing."

Taking the phone from her, Dean quickly navigated into his call log. First thing he saw were the two missed calls she'd mentioned. One at ten o'clock, and the other just a few minutes prior to him getting out of the shower. As Alaine had assumed, both calls were registered to the same number, a number he wasn't at all familiar with. His mind jumped to Sam.

_Had he heard the voicemail he'd left him last night? If so, why not call from his personal phone? Was he alright?_

Dean wasted no time in dialing back the number. He ambled away from Alaine to stand in the center of the motel room. As the phone rang in his ear, he found himself pacing back in forth in wait for an answer.

After the fourth ring, the sound of soft static and rustling broke through the call before a deep, monotonous voice answered in its usual getting.

_"Hello, Dean."_

Sighing, Dean ceased his pacing, a hand moving to rub at his forehead. "Hey, Cas."

It'd been a while since he'd last heard from Castiel. After the Gadreel incident, the angel had gone off in search of him under the belief that he'd be lead into finding Metatron. Finally, after weeks of waiting, Dean was finally hearing back from Castiel.

_"I have word Metatron is planning to raise an army to overtake Heaven. Gadreel is still nowhere to be found."_

"Figures he'd go off the radar. Sam took off and went lookin' for him."

_"Alone?"_

"Yeah."

_"Why didn't you go with him?"_

"Well, the guy hates me right now. It's not like I could've held him against his will. He was set on going solo."

From the other line, Dean could hear Castiel let out a long sigh.

_"This isn't good. Sam could be in danger."_

"You think I don't know that?" Dean snapped. "I've tried calling him. Hell, he's even shut off his GPS tracking so I won't find him. Sam's gonna do one helluva job at coverin' his tracks."

_"Leave it to me. I'll go search for him. I'll call when I have something."_

Just as Dean parted his mouth to speak, the call went dead. Exasperated, he stuffed his phone into the front pocket of his jeans and cursed under his breath.

"Fantastic."

From her place at the table, Alaine cast a worried glance his way. She stood from her seat as Dean drew close.

"Hey." Reaching out to stop him, she placed a hand over his shoulder. She squeezed, prompting his gaze to flicker down to her face. "You alright? Sounds like that call didn't go too well."

Dean hadn't meant to, but as a reflex, he found himself shrugging off her touch and brushing right past her.

"I'm fine," he clipped.

Alaine couldn't deny that this abrupt reaction stung her. She brought her hand back town to her side as a forced smile found its way onto her lips. She turned around to face him.

"Okay. If you decide you want to talk—"

Reaching for his duffle, he zipped it close. "Thanks, but no thanks. Go pack your stuff. We're leaving."

"Oh...alright."

Dean glanced up. He stopped for a moment, his gaze following her as she turned away. He mentally kicked himself for the way he came out. He'd brushed her off like a dick when he hadn't intended to act that way towards her at all. With everything that was going on—the fallen angels, Metatron, Sam—he couldn't help but feel on edge. He was worried, not only for his brother, but about the imminent threat of danger they now had to face.

Without another word being spoken between them, Dean and Alaine packed their belongings and headed out to the Impala. It was until they'd clambered into the vehicle and headed off towards their next destination that Alaine had chosen to break the tension surrounding them.

Turning in the passenger seat, she glanced over at Dean who'd been driving, hands gripped tight around the wheel, and with a stern frown etched deep into the wrinkles adorning his face.

"So...where're we off to next? Is there another case?"

Dean kept his gaze trained on the road. He'd sensed the hopefulness in her words at the thought of there being another job.

"You're going back to the bunker."

"What?" she asked, her face riddled with confusion. "Why?"

"There's some stuff I gotta take care of. _Alone_."

Alaine's brows furrowed. "I see. So, this is your way of you saying you don't want my help with...whatever it is you're dealing with, right?"

"Just stay put 'til I get back."

"And what if say no?"

Dean cast a glance in her direction. He saw the challenge in her eyes as their gazes met. "Alaine—" He paused, letting out a burdened sigh. "Look, I'm not trying to come off like a dick—"

"Which you are," she interrupted. "I mean, I get it. There's stuff you don't want to talk about, and that's totally fine. Everyone has their own issues I guess—"

"That's not the point, alright? I...I'm worried about my brother. There's a lot goin' on that you don't know about, and he's put himself smack in the middle of it. What he's doing...it's reckless and stupid, and I gotta find him before things go south. By you stayin' out of this, you're doin' me a huge favor. I can't run around worrying about keepin' you safe while lookin' for Sam. You wanna help? How about you keep yourself alive. You're no good to me dead."

"Dean. I've already told you I can look after my—"

"We were friends once, right?"

Alaine paused. For a moment, her mind drifted back to all those years ago. She looked at Dean as his eyes drifted back and forth between her and the road.

"Yes," she answered. "We were."

"Well call me a sentimentalist, but after all these years, I'd like to still think we are. Sam and I, we don't got much left to care about. Everyone we've ever known is pretty much gone; I'm just trying to prevent you from gettin' hurt."

Alaine took a moment to process his words, and the genuine care in his voice. She regarded him thoughtfully, her eyes trained onto the side of his face.

"I appreciate the concern, Dean, I really do. It's...nice to know I still mean something to you."

Dean chuckled softly from the driver's seat. "To tell you the truth, you never really stopped."

"Stopped what?"

"Meaning somethin' to me."

This revelation caught her by surprise. She found herself staring at him, rendered speechless as a black hole swallowed her insides. She felt a slight flutter in her chest when his head turned and his eyes found hers again.

"I get you want to help. Right now, I just need you safe. Can you do that for me, Alaine?"

She blinked, a small smile forming on her lips. "Okay. I guess I can listen just this once."

Dean laughed. "'Atta girl."

*     *     *

Alaine found herself alone in the bunker for five days while Dean went off to resolve his _unknown_ business. He gave her cash for whatever she needed, and told her to make sure she wasn't followed whenever coming or going from the bunker. He also left her a small set of rules, forcing Alaine to assure him she was more than capable of holding down the fort in his absence.

Half reluctant to leave, Dean handed her a spare angel blade, his hand lingering over hers. "This is for defense. Works on angels and demons. You use this if you run into trouble. Do not hesitate to call if you—"

"Dean," Alaine smiled, taking the blade from him and placing it on the table in the library. "I'll be fine. Now go before you end up not leaving at all."

There was a quick flash of an unknown emotion in Dean's eyes. As quick as it'd been there, it was gone. He simply turned away, bags slung over his shoulders.

"Alright, I'm off. See you in a few days."

And a few it had been. It was in the middle of the week when Alaine's phone received an unexpected call from Dean's cell. The conversation had been brief, but he'd told her he was on his way home.

By the sound of his voice she'd been able to gather things hadn't gone the way he'd hoped. If he had gone out looking for Sam, which is what she'd assumed, it meant he was probably coming back empty handed, and in a pretty crappy mood.

As an idea, she decided it'd be nice to do something for him. She wasn't sure exactly _what_ , but it'd only taken her a mere five minutes to figure out the perfect way to knock his socks off.

After calling him back and asking a hundred plus questions that probably left him suspecting her, she set off to prepare him the best home-cooked meal she'd ever made.

It hadn't taken her long to get everything ready. She made him a nice ribeye steak cooked medium well with mashed potatoes and sautéed asparagus for sides. She also decided to prepare a surprise dessert. By the time she heard the familiar sound of the bunker's iron door opening and closing, she'd already set out his meal over the table in the kitchen. It was now all a matter of waiting for his reaction when he walked into the room.

"Alaine? You home?"

Giddy, she stood by the table, hands clasped in front of her in anticipation. "In here," she called back.

She heard his heavy footsteps echo down the hallway as he drew near.

"I saw this bakery on the drive back, and I remembered how much you used to love sugar cookies when we were kids. So, I sorta stopped and bought you a couple dozen. I hope you still like them—"

Walking through the door, Dean came to an abrupt halt.

"Welcome back!"

His eyes fell on Alaine first. She was standing by the table, her arms thrown up into the air in greeting. There was an ear-splitting smile plastered to her vibrant face. She seemed genuinely happy to see him.

Laughing, he stepped forward, his attention now falling onto the mouthwatering dinner set out over the table.

"What...what's all this for?"

"You, obviously."

"Really? Did I forget my own birthday or something?"

"No," Alaine chuckled. "I just thought I'd do something nice."

Dean smiled as he surveyed the meal. "I gotta say, you pretty much hit it out of the park with this. Is that...steak?"

"Yes, it is. Just wait 'til you taste it."

Alaine watched the excitement glimmer in his green eyes. She mentally high-fived herself for a job well done.

"I can't believe you made all this."

"Well, I wanted to show my gratitude for the hospitality you've extended to me. Letting me crash here, it means a lot to me. Take this as a way of me saying 'thanks-for-not-leaving-my-ass-out-on-the-streets'."

"You don't have to worry about thanking me. _Mi casa es su casa._ Be sure to remember that."

Alaine's stomach fluttered at the honesty behind his words. "I'll definitely be keeping it in mind."

"Oh, before I forget. These are for you."

She hadn't noticed it before, but there'd been a small pastry box in Dean's hands. Smiling, he stepped forward, holding it out for her to take.

"The cookies?" she asked. Curious, she reached out and flipped the lid open to peer inside.

"Guess we both got the same idea to do something nice."

"I guess we did," Alaine smiled up at him. "Come on, what do you say we sit down and eat? There's a nice, home-baked apple pie with your name on it waiting in the oven."

Dean's smile broadened into a wide grin. He scoffed. "You keep this up, I just might end up holdin' you hostage."

"Well, lucky for you, I don't really plan on leaving. Now move it, Winchester. I'm starving."

*     *     *

Dinner had been filled with laughter and drinking. The pair of hunters sat in the kitchen, enjoying their delicious meal as well as each other's company. Well after they'd cleared their plates, they continued their engaging conversation, hardly paying any mind to the time until Dean got up from the table to fetch the fifth round of drinks of the night.

"Alright." He'd been standing in front of the fridge, his hand holding open the door as he searched its contents for more beers. "We're lookin' at one bottle of Budweiser left."

"Really?" From the table, Alaine had been watching Dean rummage around in the fridge. "We're out already?"

"We can split the beer if you want."

Alaine made a noise of protest in the back of her throat. She rose to her feet, her legs carrying her over to where he stood at the other side of the kitchen.

"Well, that's all we got, unless you're in the mood for some of the hard stuff." Dean shut the fridge and turned around, a suggestive smirk playing on his lips.

"Hmm, what are you offering?"

"A nice bottle of Jack. Unopened."

Alaine arched a brow. Stepping forward, she approached Dean. "And where's this _unopened_ bottle?"

She sauntered towards him, a devilish smile playing on her flushed face. Dean felt his chest grow hot as a delicate, manicured finger moved to toy with the collar of his flannel shirt.

"Back in my room."

"Ah, I see." She moved in, her eyes trailing up to meet his expectant gaze. "You figured since I'm already feeling tipsy, I'd be inebriated enough to let you persuade me into falling into your little trap, huh?"

Dean couldn't help the nervous chuckle that escaped him as she stared him down. "What?"

"You're trying to get me to sleep with you, aren't you, Dean?"

Like a deer caught in a pair of headlights, he was trapped underneath her penetrating gaze. She was peering deeply into his eyes, as if trying to read into the thoughts running rampant through his mind. She stepped into him, making the distance between them grow smaller until their bodies almost touched. Alaine then craned her neck up as a knowing smirk settled onto her lips.

"Cat got your tongue?"

An unsteady breath evaded his lungs. There was something about the subtle intensity she was displaying that had Dean's sense of self-control reeling inside of him. She was obviously buzzed, as was he, and the way her amber eyes bore into his left the impression that she was thinking the same thing he was.

"If I were to say yes, what would your response be?"

Heat flared inside of him. He hardened his gaze. "I'd grab you up right here, right now, and give you a real ride worth remembering."

"Really? The Dean I remember couldn't last more than fifteen minutes."

Dean's jaw tensed. _She was taunting him._ Reaching out, he splayed his hands over her hips. He squeezed, his nails scraping against denim as his face lowered to hers.

"You ain't dealin' with the same Dean, sweetheart." Slowly, the hunter liked his lips, his voice now reminiscent of a low growl. "I've got years of experience on me. Just say the word, Lainey. I'd be more than willing to show you what I mean."

Up until this point, Alaine's mind had been clouded by the alcohol-induced fog that'd taken her over. She'd let it run wild because she wanted to see how far she could take this. She wanted to assess if whether or not the sexual tension she'd felt between them was actually real and not just some figment of her overactive imagination.

Turns out it was real, and the proof was in the way Dean's eyes were devouring her at this exact moment.

However, as the words he'd spoken left his lips, she'd been pulled out of her drunken haze by the reality that'd suddenly struck her.

_He's had years of experience..._

While that alone would make any other woman go weak at the knees with excitement, it had Alaine unwilling thinking about the horde of sexual encounters he must've gone through in the time of her absence. The thought of it suddenly made her feel sick.

She wasn't sure what his next move would be, but before Dean could even think about making it, Alaine slowly pulled herself out of his clutches, and distanced herself. She saw his expression quickly shift into one of confusion. She offered him a soft smile.

"I have to say, that does sound...tempting, but right now, I don't think drunk me is really thinking straight."

Dean looked like he didn't understand. "Isn't that the whole point behind drunk sex?"

Alaine sighed. "Listen, why don't we just call it a night? It's getting late, and I'm not feeling so well."

_Call it a night?_

Dean found himself wanting to protest, but there was something in her eyes that quickly advised him against it. He merely swallowed down his words, along with the urges he'd been fighting with, and offered her a nod in understanding.

"Okay."

They stood there awkwardly for a short moment before she finally scurried out of the kitchen. Grunting in disappointment, he threw his head back, his fingers moving to rub at his forehead as a long sigh followed.


	7. VII

**_Seven_ **

_Two months later..._

It was a quarter after eight p.m. Alaine had settled herself into a chair inside of the operations room. Having arrived shortly from a four-day-long witch hunt in Wyoming, she was taking this moment of silence to enjoy a nice bowl of cereal for dinner.

The peace and quiet was well appreciated. Since she'd first arrived at the bunker, Dean and her had been on the move, almost non-stop. Case after case, hunt after hunt. She wasn't one to really complain since it'd been her idea to tackle on all of those jobs. She'd thought having Dean as a partner would facilitate things, even make them more fun.

Boy, had she been dead wrong.

Dean Winchester was a grueling man who hardly took no for an answer. It was either his way or the highway, and while on a case, those qualities seemed to magnify tenfold. He was difficult to work with, always wanting to barge in, hardly stopping to think things through. It was always 'shoot first, ask questions later' with him, and that alone had warranted alot of disagreements between the two of them.

Nonetheless, they'd managed to save quite a few lives in the past eight weeks, and although Alaine didn't really agree with all of his methods, she still saw it as a win.

On the other hand, Dean saw it all as a way to distract himself from the fact that he still hadn't heard back from Castiel, or from his brother for that matter. After countless attempts, and having to speak to an automated voice messaging system more times than he could bare, he'd come to the conclusion that Sam just didn't want to be found. Having no one to blame but himself, Dean decided it be best if he allowed his brother the space he needed to get over things. He hated the thought of not knowing whether or not he was okay, but being left with no other option, he figured it wise to leave Sam be. At least for now.

And although things haven't been a walk in the park, he was grateful for Alaine's company. Granted she was a firecracker—and a real pain in the ass when she wanted to be—the woman had her good qualities, and those qualities helped keep him at ease.

Being around her now felt as if almost no time had passed at all. She was still the same Alaine he'd met all those years ago-funny, empathetic, and all around selfless. To Dean, it was like their friendship had picked up right where it'd left off. They were free to act like themselves around another without having to worry about judgement being passed. They knew each other-their likes and dislikes, what made them tick. In such a short time, they also managed to learn a lot more about one another. It only made sense that after nineteen years, certain things would change, but it didn't alter the bond they shared.

In their respective eyes, they were still the same Dean and Alaine; the same Dean and Alaine that still fit together like two missing pieces out of a puzzle.

After sitting in the operations room for a long while, Alaine had been in the middle of finishing her cereal when a deep, resounding voice carried through the bunker. She raised the ceramic bowl to her lips, tipping her head back to drink from the leftover milk as Dean casually strolled into the room.

"Hey."

Her eyes flickered over to him. She hummed in acknowledgement.

"So, I got this idea—"

"Uh-oh. That can't be good."

Dean ignored her remark. He approached the side of her chair, his figure looming over hers as she cast him an interrogative look. He watched her set the bowl down onto the table, her fingers then moving to wipe at the obvious milk mustache on her face.

"If it's another case, don't even ask."

"That's not what I was thinking."

Alaine arched a brow in curiosity. "Prey do tell then."

"Since it's a Friday, and we haven't had some real time off in weeks, what do you say you and I go out, hit a couple bars? I could use a drink or two."

"Dean, we _just_ got back from a job. I'm exhausted—"

"Come on, Lainey. Don't wimp out on me now. You never turn down an opportunity like this."

 _There goes the 'taking no for an answer'_ , she thought to herself. Tiredly, she let out a long sigh and slouched back in her seat. "Yeah, well I can hardly keep my eyes open right now. Why not just go on your own?"

Dean smiled. "And have you miss out on all the fun? A night out isn't a night out without my partner-in-crime."

"While I do appreciate the nice sentiment, I'm still gonna have to say no. You don't need me to hustle people out of their money, Dean."

"You're right, but watchin' you kick some ass in pool would be a great way to cap off the day. Come on. Are you really gonna let me down like this?"

"Dean—"

"I'll even give you a shot at winning back those four hundred bucks from last time. What do you say?"

An annoyed frown settled into the space between her brows. "I'd say you're insufferable," she grumbled. She regarded him for a long moment before finding herself conceding to the persuasive charm of his smile. "Fine, dammit, I'll go."

Dean clapped her on the shoulder. "That's my girl. I'll give you some time to get changed. Meet me in the car in fifteen."

At exactly nine o'clock, Alaine found herself leaving the bunker—mostly against her own will—to join Dean inside of the Impala. He'd been sitting patiently behind the wheel, his fingers drumming to the beat of an old rock song playing on the radio. She'd slipped into the vehicle and shut the door before turning in the passenger seat to glance his way.

"Okay, let's go before I end up changing my mind."

Dean had reached out to lower the volume on the music. He then lifted his gaze to hers, and damn near choked on his breath when his eyes fully took in her appearance. Clearing his throat, he settled back in the driver's seat as his pulse lurched.

"What?" she'd asked, brows furrowed in question. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Uh...no reason."

"Is it my outfit? Is it too much?"

'Too much' wouldn't be the words Dean would use to describe it. He simply looked her over once more, surveying the way her off-the-shoulder crop top and high-waisted black denim shorts molded to the deep contours of her body. His attention briefly fell to her exposed midriff, and the silky skin of her thick thighs before forcing himself to focus on her face.

The delicate makeup she'd applied to her eyes and lips in addition to the amount of skin she was showing was something he wasn't used to seeing on her. She looked different, but in a breathtaking way.

Her smoky eyeshadow and nude lipstick seemed to tie everything together perfectly. Even the way she'd swept her long hair over her shoulders in cascading waves added onto her overall appeal.

The words 'too much' were definitely not the ones he'd been thinking about. Beautiful sounded just about right to him.

"I look stupid, don't I? Ugh, this is why I don't wear makeup. I should go back inside and take all this crap off—"

"Don't."

Dean had spoken so suddenly and so commandingly that Alaine found her mouth snapping shut of its own accord. Taken aback, she sat in the passenger seat in silence, her eyes gauging the subtle shifts in his expression.

"Don't take it off," he'd repeated, his tone more delicate. He fixed her a genuine smile. "You look good."

"Really?" she asked. She looked skeptically at her clothes.

"Yes, really,"

"You better not be lying to me, Winchester."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Alaine regarded him intently before settling into her seat. "Alright. Let's go. Mama's in the mood to rip some suckers off tonight."

*      *      *

After a long while of debating on where they should go, Dean and Alaine came to agree that hitting up a dive bar they've been to a couple of towns over was the best way to go. When they arrived, they noticed the place wasn't all too crowded. Luckily for them it was only ten o'clock, which gave them a good hour on the pool tables before patrons started spilling in.

They'd stopped by the bar first to grab a round of beers before heading towards the back of the establishment where a group of young girls hung out inside of a booth.

"Alright." Setting his beer down on the edge of the pool table, Dean picked off a cue stick from the rack on the wall. "How much are we betting?"

Alaine walked up beside him to grab one for herself. "Someone's eager to lose. How about we make this fun?"

Dean turned to her, clearly interested. "I'm listening."

"How's this: we put down what's in our wallets right now, winner takes all."

"Those are some high stakes, Lainey. You sure you wanna do this?"

"As sure as I'm gonna win."

A smirk now played on Dean's lips as a soft chuckle escaped him. "In that case, how about I up the ante? If I win, you have to hand wash my car for a month in nothing but short-shorts and a bikini top while I watch."

Alaine was caught off guard by his bold request. She cast him a disbelieving look. "You can't be serious."

"You said let's make it fun. Why not humor me?"

"Fine." Reaching into the back pocket of her shorts, she pulled out a wad of cash and slapped it down onto the edge of the pool table. "That smugness of yours just bought you one hell of an ass whooping."

"Hit me with your best shot, sweetheart."

After racking up the billiards, Dean and Alaine did a quick coin toss to decide who was going first. With her cue stick in hand, Alaine settled herself in front of the table as Dean watched from behind her. She aimed, slowly pulled the stick back then jabbed it forward. The balls knocked into each other. They scattered across the table. Three solids managed to make it into two different pockets, prompting Dean to mutter an oath.

"What the hell was that?"

Alaine moved over to where the cue ball landed. She took another shot, but ended up missing. Still, with a smug smile, she turned to Dean as he approached the table to take his turn.

"What's the matter, big boy? Scared you're gonna go broke?"

Dean scoffed, positioning himself to take a shot. "Fat chance that'll happen."

After knocking in four stripes, it was Alaine's turn to go again. He'd been feeling good about himself, but by a horrible twist of luck, his confidence boost had been brought down as he witnessed her make another three perfect shots.

She was now down to two balls. On her next shot she'd missed the pocket by just a centimeter. Dean quickly calculated his chances. He needed to get three in a row if he had any hope of wining.

By the time his turn had passed, he'd gotten rid of all the stripes as he'd intended, and was now staring down the 8 ball with determination.

Smirking, Dean glanced up at her as he bent over the table. "Left corner pocket."

He carefully pulled the stick back, and with a firm tap, sent the cue ball hurtling into the 8. He watched as it rolled across the table. It ricocheted off the corner, sweeping past the designated pocket.

Dean cussed. Maneuvering past him, Alaine rounded the table to knock in her last solid before glancing over her shoulder at him.

"This one's all for you, Dean. Right side pocket."

All it took was a simple stop-shot for Alaine to win the game. She cheered in triumph all the while Dean stood back and stared in utter disbelief.

"You gotta be friggin' kidding me!"

"I just owned your ass. Cough up the cash."

"Oh, the hell you did!" he objected. "We're makin' this best two out of three."

Alaine looked at him pointedly. "Are you being a sore loser?"

Dean released a humorless scoff. "No, that was just a crap match. Come on, we're goin' again."

"Why don't you just admit defeat? You know you lost fair and squa—"

"I said come on," he ordered. "Best two out of three."

*      *      *

Forty minutes later, and after two games and a couple more rounds of beer, Dean found himself broke and in a bitter mood.

"Wow." Stowing away her earnings, Alaine clapped a hand onto Dean's shoulder and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. "Who would've thought you'd get your ass kicked so bad?"

Dean stared down at the gloating woman with a frown. "Go on. Laugh it up while you still can."

"Oh, you bet your ass I will. I'm gonna go get us another round. Don't worry, it's on me."

"Very funny."

With a grim look on his face, Dean watched Alaine saunter off into the crowd towards the bar. He tossed back the remnants of his beer and set the empty bottle down onto the pool table. From his peripheral, he noticed a figure in the distance coming his way. When he turned to look, he saw it was a woman. She was smiling somewhat shyly as she approached.

He studied her for a moment. Young, busty, blonde-she was definitely his type. As she got close, he met her stunning gaze and found himself pushing up off of the pool table he'd been leaning against to meet the chick half way.

"Uh, hi," she greeted over the loud music. She offered him a nervous smile as she looked up at him through her lashes. "Sorry for coming up to you like this. My friends sort of dared me."

Dean glanced behind her towards the booth full of girls seated a few feet away. They were watching them, eager smiles on their faces as they giggled amongst themselves. He lowered his gaze back to her.

"That so?"

He drank her in. She was short, with a petite figure. Her steel gray eyes regarded him as a small smile played on her lips.

"Trust me, I'm so mortified right now. They all thought this would be a great way to get me laid. I think they're insane, and drunk out of their asses."

Dean laughed, low and husky. "I wouldn't say they're wrong."

The woman's face turned bright red. Shyly, she tucked a stray stand of her hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry. I've never really done this before, walking up to some random, hot guy at bar."

"Don't worry, you're doin' fine so far," he encouraged. "What's your name?"

"Diana."

"Well, Diana, my name's Dean. See, that should take some of the pressure off."

She smiled. "Yeah, it actually does."

"And now that we know each other's names, we can move onto the reason why you walked all the way over here to talk to me."

"Right, sex."

Dean laughed again. "You always this straightforward with what you want?"

"Not really, but I'm a little buzzed. Alcohol always has a habit of bringing out what I like to call the 'best' in me because no way would I've approached you had I been sober."

"And why's that?"

"Well for starters, you're old. I just turned twenty-one two weeks ago. You on the other hand have to be a few years over thirty."

"Sexy and observant. You got some great qualities goin' for you, Diana."

"Great enough to get you to sleep with me?"

Dean gazed into her expectant eyes. His initial thought was to say yes, make a bit more small talk, then drag her away to the Impala and head off to the motel he knew was a few miles away. However, as if the reality had smacked him across the face, he quickly remembered that he wasn't alone.

And that realization had him wanting to kick his own ass.

_How'd he forget about Alaine? How could he be so stupid?_

They'd been having a great time together. He felt like a complete dick for even entertaining the thought of taking this woman, Diana, to bed. For the first time in his life, Dean felt not only disappointed in himself, he also felt repulsed.

Tearing his gaze away from Diana, Dean scanned the crowd of faces in search of Alaine's. It wasn't long until he found her standing at the bar, waiting for their drinks. He watched her for a brief moment, and felt a tinge of guilt settle inside of him.

_God, he was such an idiot..._

From where he stood, he could see her patiently waiting for the bartender to hand her the beers. She was leaning against the bar with an arm propped up over the counter. She'd cast a casual glance around her when out of nowhere, Dean watched this drunken asshat walk up behind her.

He'd tapped her on the shoulder, aiming to get her attention. Alaine had merely given him a disinterested look before turning her body away. His lips moved as if he was saying something to her. She'd ignored him, but the man persisted by leaning forward to whisper something in her ear.

Visibly, Dean noticed every muscle in her body tense in response to him invading her personal space. As soon as the bartender placed the beers down, she scooped them up into her hands and turned to leave. It was at this moment that he now begun to see red. Reluctant on letting her go, the man reached out and grabbed a hold of her by the arm.

Dean's primitive instinct took over. Completely forgetting about the woman in front of him, he hurriedly pushed past her towards the crowd. She'd called out to him, but the sound of her voice had been muted by the sudden roaring in his ears as his eyes locked onto the man accosting Alaine.

The moment she'd felt his clammy hand wrap around her arm, she whirled around and shot him a deathly glare.

"Where do you think you're taking this fine ass of yours, baby? I wasn't done talking."

Every nerve in her body cringed with disgust. She became hyperaware of the stench of cheap liquor and cigarette smoke on his breath as he leaned in closer. The urge to crack him over the head with the beer bottle clutched firmly in her grasp had taken her over just as the sound of Dean's voice reached her.

" _Hey!_ "

The amount of controlled rage in that one syllable had been enough to shake her to the core. Before she knew it, he was behind her, his hand latching onto her shoulder and pulling her away.

"The hell you think you're doin', pal?"

The man glared at Dean. "Minding my damn business, which is what you should be doing. Now, back off. She's mine."

Alaine's gaze flickered up to the side of Dean's face. She watched the muscle in his jaw twitch dangerously as a scowl settled onto his intimidating features.

"She ain't yours."

"Yeah? Says who?"

Before Alaine could attempt to hold Dean back, he'd stepped forward and grabbed the man by the collar of his jacket. With a growl, he slammed him up against the wall.

"You take your ass on out of here, you understand?"

The man, now startled, held up his hands in surrender as he eyed Dean fearfully. "Hey, calm down. There's no need to get violent over a meaningless bitch—"

Dean's hand enclosed around his throat. "You watch how you speak about her," he warned. "So help me, I'll beat your ass ten ways from Sunday."

Panicked, Alaine discarded her beers. She reached out and grabbed Dean. "Hey, that's enough. Come on. Let him go."

The man looked from Dean to Alaine then back to Dean. "You heard the little lady. Let me go."

Alaine saw his expression darken into one of pure rage. She tugged at his arms in hopes of prying him away.

"Dean, he's not worth it. Let's get out of here. Please."

Acknowledging the urgency in her voice, the hunter reluctantly moved away. He watched the man shrink back in fear before feeling a small hand slip through his closed fist. He flickered his gaze down to Alaine as her fingers intertwined with his.

"Come on. We're going home."

On the way out of the bar, Alaine led him through the crowd. She'd payed the bartender for their drinks, refusing to accept the change and walked right out of the establishment with Dean silently trailing beside her. As they crossed the parking lot towards the Impala, he'd glanced down at their joined hands to realize she hadn't at all let him go. She'd kept their fingers tightly woven together.

It was strange, but it was his first time noticing just how small her hand was in comparison to his. The way his palm molded against hers, the feel of her fingertips gently kneading his knuckles as she squeezed—it all felt too right.

When they reached the car, Alaine had released him. He couldn't explain the disappointment that knotted his stomach the moment she pulled her hand out of his to turn and face him. She'd stared up into his eyes, her own reflecting concern as she stepped forward.

"You okay?"

Dean felt his frown return. "I'm good. What about you? Did that son of a bitch hurt you?"

"No," she smiled. "You showed up at the right time."

There was a passing moment of silence between them. Neither one of them said a word. They simply stood there, just a mere foot of distance in between them, their gazes fixed onto each other's faces.

To Dean's following surprise, the fact that he'd been staring right into her eyes hadn't at all helped him to see her next actions coming.

It'd caught him completely off guard when her hands suddenly latched onto his jacket. He'd stared at her in mild confusion, unsure as to why she was gripping him so suddenly. Yet, it was when he watched her rise up onto the balls of her feet and her face inch closer that his pulse chose to come to a screeching halt.

Then, as if in slow motion, the sensation of her soft lips pressing against his right cheek sent his heart into overdrive. It thundered wildly, the vibrations keeping him riveted to the spot. He felt his whole body tense, and as the enthralling fragrance of what he recognized to be as scented lotion swept into his nose, Dean lost all sense of coherent thought. It'd rendered him immobile, reducing him to a mindless statue.

Her scent alone had been enough to knock the air right out of his lungs, and little was he aware that she'd experienced a similar effect upon being struck with his personal aroma.

It was aquatic with a hint of gunpowder and sweat. The urge to nuzzle into the crook of his neck swelled inside of Alaine. Just as she thought about pulling back, a wave of emotions came crashing down over her and with it came the abrupt realization of something she'd been fighting to ignore.

It all came rushing to the surface. The emotions she'd been biting back, the thoughts along with the memories she'd been struggling to keep buried away-they cornered her. At that instant, the knot in her chest expanded until she felt like she couldn't breathe. Although she didn't want to, she felt like she had no choice but to pull away from Dean.

"I...I think we should get home. It's getting late."

Once again, Dean found himself at a loss. He stood there, still reeling as Alaine quickly ducked into the Impala. This was the second time he's felt this way, but unlike before, the feeling wasn't being generated by his attraction to her. It was something else; something entirely different, something he hadn't felt in over nineteen years.


	8. VIII

**_Eight_ **

It was a little after midnight when they arrived back home. Rolling the Impala into the bunker's underground garage, Dean parked it in its designated spot and turned the engine over. The moment he pulled his keys out of the ignition and turned to face Alaine, she'd quickly thrown the passenger door open and slipped out of the car.

Her mind a whirlwind of thoughts, she navigated through the halls until finding herself in the kitchen. She was parched, and in desperate need of something to cool off the burning she felt inside of her. She reached into the fridge and opted for a fresh water bottle. She'd twisted off the cap, her lips pressing to the rim to take a long drink.

She didn't know why, but it felt like her insides were on fire. _Maybe it's the anxiety from having been so close to Dean,_ she'd wondered.

She ran a shaky hand through her hair and closed her eyes. She tried to will away the thoughts running rampant in her head, but found that she couldn't. All she could see, think and feel was Dean. The way his body heat engulfed her whenever he stood too close, the sound of his husky voice every time he'd say her name; the way he smelled—it all seemed to add on to the emotions she'd feel when in his presence.

As the days passed, she realized it was becoming harder for her to be around him. The tension at times would be so palpable that if she wanted to, she could cut clean through it with a butter knife. Just being in the same room sometimes felt like it was too much. It was all digging up memories and feelings from the past, and she didn't know exactly how to handle it.

It only took about three weeks of living under the same roof as Dean for her to figure out that after so many years, she was still attracted to him— even more so now. They were different people, older and with alot of baggage to carry. It wasn't the same as when they were just a couple of kids looking to explore emotions they didn't fully understand. They were now adults, and Alaine wondered what it'd feel like to dive back into what they'd once had.

_Just like that time when you almost agreed to having drunk sex?_

The intrusive voice in the back of her mind reared her. That moment had been one of poor judgment. She'd been intoxicated, and had it not been for her still working conscious, she would've ended up doing something she knew she'd regret.

Wanting Dean was one thing. Hell, the attraction was there, and so was the desire. She didn't need to question if he felt the same way. She was smart enough to know when a man wanted her. _Especially_ a man of Dean Winchester's caliber.

_So, if there was something obviously there, why not just act upon it?_

There was a simple answer to that. Fear. Alaine was downright terrified, not of Dean, but of what would happen if she gave into the feelings inside of her. She knew that after one time, she would end up wanting more. Not more in the intimate aspect, but of the emotional kind. She'd crave to be closer, to mean more to him than just a friend—or a casual screw. When she thought about it, her heart was inkling towards it already.

She liked Dean. In fact, she was sure it had to be more than just that. Love? Maybe not exactly, but at least somewhat close.

_Why not just tell him?_

Again, there was a simple answer. Knowing what she knew of Dean—his carefree lifestyle, and noncommittal tendencies—she'd end up making a complete fool out of herself. He wasn't the kind of man to be tied down to just one woman. She knew she wouldn't be enough, and that sooner or later he'd find someone else to pass the time with. Emotionally, Alaine knew she wouldn't be able to handle something like that. After the history they've shared, and what he's meant to her for so long, she thought it best to just leave things as they were, regardless if that was what she truly wanted.

With a sigh in resignation, Alaine capped her water bottle and shut the fridge. The desire to fall into a deep sleep so she would no longer be tormented by her thoughts prompted her to leave the kitchen, but the moment she turned around to do just that, a startled yelp tore through her lungs.

"Jesus-freaking-Christ, Dean! What the hell!?"

The hunter had been standing behind her— _God knows for how long_ —utterly silent. She hadn't heard him come in, and with the lack of space between their bodies, she was surprised she hadn't felt him breathing down her neck. As a reflex, her hand flew out and smacked him in the chest.

"You scared the crap out of me!" she panted, her widened eyes scrutinizing him. "You can't sneak up on people like that; you'll give them a damn heart attack."

Feeling her heartbeat pulsing in her throat, she fixed Dean a chastising look. He simply stood there with an impassive expression she couldn't at all read. She looked into his eyes, and it was there that she saw what his features refused to reveal. She gasped softly as the intensity in his green gaze seared her to the bone.

"Dean. Is something wro—"

Alaine's question had been cut short by the sudden hand he'd reached out and entangled into her hair. It slipped through her waves, his fingers weaving past her silky locks until the back of her neck rested firmly in his palm. She witnessed his features harden and his eyes burn wildly before he stepped into her, his head swooping down to capture her mouth in a scorching kiss.

The moment their lips finally touched, the universe came to a complete standstill. Electricity crackled to life, a desire neither one of them knew existed taking them both. Alaine's knees buckled from underneath her, and in an instant, a strong arm snaked around her waist, pulling her small body flush to Dean's. She craned her neck, seeking out more. She'd closed her eyes and let the passion brewing inside of her take over.

Her hands found their way to his chest. It heaved underneath her fingertips as a ragged breath escaped his lungs. She'd distantly registered the sound of her water bottle hitting the floor before the warm sweep of his tongue against her lips coaxed her to part her mouth.

She welcomed the sensation of him tasting her with a soft moan of appreciation. Dean eagerly swallowed up the sound, his hips grinding against her, making his arousal known. He groaned low and deep, using his tongue to tease hers into responding. He licked into her mouth, a slow and languid sweep. Heat amassed inside of his groin, the pulsing of his blood traveling all throughout his body.

Alaine could feel moisture beginning to gather between her legs. The delicate caress of their tongues sent a violent shudder rolling over her. She gasped again, and Dean deepened the kiss. He nibbled and sucked at her lips, reducing her to a flustered mess in his arms as she gripped at his broad shoulders. She tiptoed, pushing her breasts deeper into him.

Her body sought out his. She wedged herself against Dean, wanting to feel closer to him than what she already was. She felt the rigidness of his desire dig into her navel, and the voice that had been fighting to break through her lust-filled haze screamed at her to stop.

The command rocketed through her. Her lids snapped open, her eyes landing on Dean's features. She felt his stubble bristle against her chin as his mouth pulled at hers. Her breath stuttered. The closeness of his face, the subtle bumping of their noses, the lingering smell of beer on his warm, minty breath—it brought about a sensory overload that forced her to draw back.

Feeling dizzy, Alaine broke the kiss. Her lips left his in a sudden rush, prompting Dean's eyes to flicker open in search of her gaze. He looked at her, brows drawn together in confusion as she pulled away. He saw the uncertainty in her expression, along with the millions of questions he knew had to be stampeding through her mind. He quickly cupped her cheek into his hand and forced her gaze back up to his.

"Hey...easy. What's the matter?"

Alaine shook her head softly. She tried to to slip out of grasp, but the arm encircled around her waist tightened its hold.

"Talk to me," he urged, gently. He hooked his thumb underneath her chin and tilted her head up. He scanned her face, his eyes falling to her kiss-swollen lips before trailing back up to hers. "Why are you trying to run out of here?"

"I'm not," she denied. "I just...I need to breathe. I—I feel like I can't breathe. You're so close, and its suffocating and I—"

Dean silenced her rambling with a brief kiss. He pressed his forehead against hers and whispered against her lips, "Relax. Just take a deep breath."

She did as he instructed, inhaling slowly to then exhale. Dean kept his eyes trained on her, his mouth pressing small, tender kisses to her nose.

"Good girl. Keep breathing."

After a moment or two, the wild galloping of her heart settled down. This time when she pulled her face back, he hadn't tried to stop her. He allowed her to put some space in between them while still keeping her body secured to his.

"Dean..." she paused, her gaze falling to stare at his chest. "What...what the hell just happened?"

A small smirk settled into the corner of his mouth. "You need me to spell it out for you?"

"No, I just don't understand why...why you suddenly kissed me."

Dean hadn't expected for her to ask him that because he wasn't all too sure himself why he'd done it. It was something out of sheer impulse. He knew something drew him to go looking for her after she left the car. His intentions had originally been to talk, but the moment she'd turned around and his eyes found hers, another feeling completely took over.

"I saw you talking to that blonde back at the bar," she went on, her voice now small. "I'm...I'm not trying to say I'm jealous or anything, it's just—I don't know...I just sort of feel used. If it hadn't been for you having to come to my rescue, you would've ended up scoring with that chick. It just feels like you're trying to settle right now. Hell, why wouldn't you? You probably see me as an easy target anyway—"

"Is that what you think?"

Alaine snapped her gaze back up to his to see his features had hardened once more. This time, it was in anger.

"I'm sorry?"

Dean's hand tightened on her jaw, not painfully but just enough to tell her he wasn't joking around.

"You think I'm trying to use you? What kind of man do you take me for?"

"Dean, I didn't mean—"

"No," he clipped sternly. "You listen to me. I would never take advantage of you _, ever._ I don't know what you've heard about me, but one thing I don't do is play around with women, _especially_ ones I care about. Now, do me the favor and stop thinkin' whatever it is you're thinkin'. If you're questioning why I kissed you, I did it because I wanted to. It wasn't to try to get into your pants or anything like that; I just felt the urge to do it. If you feel like smackin' me for it—"

It was Alaine's turn to cut Dean off. Sighing, she let her forehead rest against his and firmly said, "I'm not going to hit you." She then peered up into his eyes as a soft smile formed on her lips.

Stroking his thumb along her cheekbone, Dean slowly nodded.

"Thank you for being honest with me," she added.

"You're welcome."

Alaine couldn't help but sense she'd offended him somehow. The whole atmosphere around them shifted, and she saw that Dean's gaze no longer regarded her as it had moments ago. He was retreating back into himself.

"I don't know about you but I'm starving," he'd spoken up. "Want a sandwich?"

He hadn't waited for her reply. She felt his touch slip away from her, and then his body as he pulled back. He left her standing there as he moved over towards the fridge. Alaine couldn't explain what drove her to do what she did, but before she could process it, she'd reached out to grab him by the back of his jacket.

"Dean, wait—"

Being tugged hard, he'd been forced to turn back around to face her. It was then that Alaine really shocked herself when her hands cupped the sides of his face and brought his head down to hers. She saw the surprised look in his eyes before she crashed her lips to his and kissed him.

It didn't take Dean long to respond. As quick as their mouths met, his tongue found hers, licking, tasting and devouring until they had no choice but to draw back for air. Panting, he smiled against her lips, his fingers settling over the indentation at the small of her back.

"What was that for?" he asked.

Alaine felt the hairs along his jaw tickle the skin of her palms. She smiled back. "Because I wanted to."

"Is that the alcohol in you talking?"

"Hey, I didn't have a lot to drink tonight."

"I saw you chug down at least six bottles of Sam Adams. You're definitely buzzed."

Alaine frowned. "No I'm not. I feel as sober as ever."

"Okay, come on. What do you say we head back to my room—"

"And have sex?"

Dean couldn't contain the laughter that bubbled up inside of his throat. He shook his head. "No. See, this is how I know you're _not_ sober. I was gonna say we should kick back and watch a movie."

"Fine, but I get to choose what we watch. I let you pick last time."

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," he smiled.

*     *     *

Alaine had been in Dean's room, his laptop laid out in front of her on the bed. She was sitting up against the headboard, browsing the internet for a good movie to watch when he walked in, a plate of sandwiches in one hand and a couple of Budweisers held in the other. She looked up as he nudged the door shut with his foot and walked towards the bed.

"Ooh, food!"

Smiling, Dean set the plate onto her lap and handed her a beer. "You always get this excited whenever someone brings you something to eat?"

"Only when the person bringing it looks as hot as you," she smirked back.

"I'm gonna take a guess and say that's the alcohol talkin' again."

"Probably is."

Dean didn't need for her to answer that. He could tell by the subtle slur in her speech that all those beers she'd drank back at the bar were finally catching up to her. For one though, he couldn't say he didn't like this side of her. She was openly flirting with him, something he knew she wouldn't do while sober. He thought it kind of funny every time she opened up her mouth and blurted out the first thing that jumped to her mind. He also liked the rosy blush that colored her cheeks, and they way her amber eyes became hooded. It made her look all the more appealing.

"Alright. Did you find something for us to watch yet?" Kicking off his boots, Dean climbed into his bed and settled next to her, mimicking the way she leaned back against the headboard.

"Yup. We're watching a horror movie. I hope you don't scare easily."

Dean laughed. "Sweetheart, my whole life is a horror movie. Play it, I'll turn off the light."

For close to two hours, the two of them enjoyed the film. They chatted here and there, and casually sipped their beers. Dean hadn't found the movie to be all that terrifying. There'd been a few jump scares, but nothing that really warranted him to be afraid. Towards the end of it, he'd been so caught up in the developing scene that he hadn't noticed Alaine had dozed off. It was when the sound of delicate snoring reached his ears that he paused the movie to glance over at her.

She had her head resting against his shoulder, her face curtained behind her hair. He watched as her chest slowly rose and fell with each shallow breath, and smiled. He decided not to finish the movie, and quietly powered off his laptop. He then set it aside along with the empty plate and beer bottles sitting in between them before he carefully slipped out from under her.

In the dark, Dean moved around his room. He stripped down to just a t-shirt and his boxer-briefs and climbed back into bed. He stole a glance at the digital clock sitting on his bedside table to see that it was well over three a.m. The passing thought then hit him: _should he wake her and have her sleep in her own room?_

As if in response, this unexpected yearning amassed within him. He felt it swell inside of his chest, and it made him realize that he wanted—no, _needed_ —to feel her next to him. For whatever strange reason, Dean couldn't bring himself to wake her. He stared at her through the dark and simply listened to the sound of her even breathing. It was a melody he hadn't know he'd been desiring to hear.

All of this was almost too surreal. For the first time in a long time, things felt oddly right. Having her back in his life after spending so many years wondering, and regretting gave him a sense of peace. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this...at home.

And that kiss. Dean hadn't planned it, nor had he expected her to reciprocate it, yet it happened. Words couldn't describe the range of emotions that'd fleeted through him in that moment. He'd waited so long to kiss her, and it was everything that he'd imagined it to be. It was evident to him that there was still something between them. How it managed to survive nineteen years of separation? Dean had no clue. However, he still didn't understand exactly what it was that he was feeling.

He decided to put his thoughts aside for now. It was getting later, and he couldn't ignore the serenade of sleep calling out to him. Shuffling forward on the bed, he reached his arms around Alaine's body to adjust her position. He gently laid her across the mattress and placed a pillow under her head. With his palm, he swept her hair away from her face and stopped to run his thumb along her jaw. He felt her stir softly beneath him, and subconsciously nuzzle into his palm before she settled again. Careful as to not awake her, he slipped underneath the covers and pulled them up over both of their bodies. He laid on his side with an arm propped up under his head as he watched her peacefully sleep. He had no idea how long he'd listened to the sound of her breathing, but it'd lulled him and comforted him until he eventually drifted off and fell asleep.


	9. IV

**_Nine_ **

Alaine woke up the next morning feeling as if she'd been trampled by a wild stampede. When she opened her eyes, she'd been met with darkness, and a throbbing headache that threatened to split her skull in half.

 _Damn hangovers,_ she grumbled in thought.

She rolled around in bed to lay on her stomach, a frown quickly settling between her brows when a subtle groan came from behind her. It was then that the arm she hadn't realized had been draped across her waist tightened its hold.

For a moment, she couldn't remember where she was, but then a familiar sent whipped into her nose and she realized the person lying next to her was Dean.

Admist the dark, Alaine could faintly make out his silhouette. She remembered spending time in his room last night after coming back from the bar. They'd watched a movie, then somewhere in the middle of it she ended up falling asleep.

_Guess that explains why she woke up in his bed._

However, there were other details of the night she couldn't recall with clarity. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something she was missing; something important. She thought back to everything she'd done. She remembered beating Dean at pool, she also remembered being harassed by some creep before leaving the bar to come back home. Anything after that was a blur.

She decided to let whatever it was come to her naturally. Stealing a glance over Dean's shoulder, she looked at the digital clock. It was a quarter past ten, which meant it was time for her to get up. She tried to wriggle out of Dean's hold without waking him. She'd managed to pry his heavy arm off of her as delicately as she could, yet hadn't gotten far enough to escape. She felt him stir beside her, another soft groan spilling from his lips before subconsciously, he pulled her flush against him.

Her face now burrowed into the crook of his neck, Alaine sighed in defeat and settled into mattress.

_Who would've thought Dean Winchester was a cuddler?_

The thought was sort of amusing. They'd shared a bed quite a few times on hunts, yet she'd never woken up with him wrapped all around her like this. He'd always keep his distance, never failing to respect her boundaries.

_Was it because this bed was smaller than the others?_

The standard mattress size in all of the bunker's bedrooms was a Full. She hadn't noticed it until now, but that hardly gave two people enough room to freely move around. This was her first time falling asleep in Dean's bed, and although it wasn't uncomfortable, space was definitely limited.

_Of course it felt comfortable. Who the hell would even think about complaining in a situation like this?_

Alaine found herself contemplating foregoing her need to pee just so she could enjoy this moment a little longer. It felt right, the way Dean's body molded perfectly against the contours of hers. She breathed him in, the scent of his skin making her stomach flutter in content. For a few minutes, Alaine tried to will herself back to sleep. She'd closed her eyes and let the steady sound of his breathing fill her ears. Underneath the covers, the heat that softly emanated from him blanketed her. It was soothing, but the urgency to empty out her bladder hadn't let up in the slightest. She groaned in frustration.

"Someone sounds like they're havin' trouble sleeping."

Dean's voice had been sudden, the remnants of sleep heavy in his words. She tensed at the sound of it.

"Dean? How long have you been awake?"

"Not long," he'd replied, huskily.

His warm breath fanned across her ear, drawing up goosebumps to the surface of her skin. She managed to supress a shudder.

"You are aware that you're cuddling me, right?"

"Mmhm."

Alaine paused. "You plan on letting me go?"

"No."

"Well...I have to pee, like _really_ bad."

"Don't care."

"I can't stay like this forever, Dean. Not if you don't want your mattress to end up soaked in urine."

"Then go."

Her exasperation could be heard in the sigh she released. "I can't with you keeping me hostage."

"Guess that means you have a problem."

"Dean. I'm being serious—"

Alaine felt the mattress dip with the weight of Dean's body shifting over hers. Arm still curled around her, he pulled her underneath him. He wedged a leg in between hers as he propped himself up onto his forearm, his fingers entangling themselves in her hair. He then lowered his head, and Alaine sucked in a sharp intake of breath when his lips grazed the corner of her mouth.

"What makes you think I'm not?"

All it took was the gentle brush of his mouth against hers for the repressed memories of last night to come flooding back. With high definition clarity, Alaine remembered the kiss they'd shared in the kitchen. Her heart suttered at the sudden recollection as a surge of heat gathered inside of her chest.

She'd been tipsy, her judgement impaired. Instead of stopping him, she allowed him to kiss her. Hell, she even kissed him back and enjoyed every last second of it. Now that she was no longer under the influence of alcohol, she expected herself to be against what was happening, to put up a fight. She couldn't understand why instead of throwing Dean off of her, she was parting her legs to give him room to settle between them. It was as if her body had a mind of its own; one adamant about betraying the panicked voice of her subconscious.

_This is exactly what you've been trying to avoid! Stop before it's too late..._

Their bodies were now dangerously close. She could feel every rigid muscle of his torso pressed up against her. She stifled a gasp when he used his hips to spread her thighs further apart.

_Why are you not stopping? If you don't do something quick, things are going to escalate. Nip it in the bud. Now!_

"Dean..."

Alaine flattened her palms over his chest. He hummed softly in response as he trailed kisses across her face. His lips dragged along her jaw, languidly making their way to her earlobe where he circled his tongue before descending onto her neck. She breathed in sharply, and his hips flexed against her.

His arousal was blatant, its massive size impossible to ignore. It dug into her pelvis, and Alaine shuddered underneath him as his mouth settled at the base of her throat. He gave one hard suck, his teeth grazing her skin, making her sex clench. She let out an involuntary moan, the sound stifled by her face pressing deep into his shoulder.

There was this humming inside of her. It intensified, filling her consciousness. Desire ran down her body like hot molten lava, searing her as it burned its way to her core. Every nerve was set ablaze by her repressed  desires, and she panicked when the demanding need swelled in her belly.

"Dean—" Alaine nudged at his chest, her voice tremulous and urgent. _Quick. Think of something quick!_ "Dean, stop. I...I'm gonna pee."

The hunter's mouth stopped moving. She felt his lips settle at her collar bone as his body stilled.

"What?"

"I said I'm gonna pee," she repeated. "I—I've been holding it. It's about to come out."

Slowly, his head pulled back. "Are you serious?"

Even in the dark, Alaine could tell there was a frown nestled into the space between his brows. "Yes! I wasn't joking when I told you a few minutes ago. I really have to go."

Dean muttered an oath. The moment his weight lifted, Alaine hurriedly scrambled out from underneath him and hopped off the bed. She didn't stop to look at him as she scurried across the room towards the door. When she slipped into the hallway, she heard a very disgruntled groan followed by the sound of Dean's body plopping back against the mattress.

With the bathroom as her first destination in mind, Alaine bolted through the long passageways until finding herself at the familiar wooden door. After relieving herself, she remained seated on the toilet. She found her legs along with every other part of her body trembled. She breathed in and closed her eyes as her hands found their way into her hair.

She'd almost done it. She'd been so close to giving in, to letting Dean have his way with her. She had even felt it inside of her, the uncontrollable yearning to _feel_ him just as she had all those years ago. Had she not stopped, things would've surely heated up past the point of no return. She let out a frustrated groan as her head tilted back to rest against the tiled wall.

_How could she be so reckless?_

It was now becoming harder for her to be around him. This attraction she felt, it wasn't just fueled by her carnal desires; there was more to it. Her developing feelings for him were slowly starting to govern over her conscious. It didn't help that intimately and emotionally, Dean was all she knew. At thirty-five, she'd only ever been with one person in her entire life, and when she thought about it, she couldn’t help but feel pathetic.

While she never dared to share herself with anyone else, Dean had spent his time blowing through women as if it were his favorite pass time.

_How could a man like that ever take her seriously?_

Regardless of the history between them, the Dean Winchester she knew now wasn't like the one she'd known long ago. He wasn't the shy, loving young boy she'd given her innocence to; he was hard-edged, changed by the many years of torment he'd been forced to endure. The more she contemplated things, the more she realized how dangerous it would be if she were to let go. Heavens knew all she wanted was to do just that, to give in to what she felt and let time decide their fate. However, it was just too risky of a gamble and Alaine wasn't one to bet on her own heart. 

She decided to push those thoughts to the far recesses of her brain. What she needed was a cold shower and a hearty breakfast to set her back on track. She'd finished up in the bathroom, then headed over to her room to collect a fresh change of clothes.

After an hour so when Alaine felt her nerves had somewhat settled, she wandered through the bunker's halls until finding herself at the kitchen's threshold. She sauntered in, her grumbling stomach drawing her towards the fridge when her eyes suddenly fell on Dean.

He'd been sitting at the table, a plate of half-finished pancakes and scrambled eggs in front of him. She felt her stomach clench the moment he lifted his head and glanced over at her. 

  
Awkwardly, a small smile nestled into the corners of her mouth. "H—hey."

Dean stared at her briefly then diverted his gaze onto the coffee mug sitting on the table. He reached for it and brought the porcelain rim up to his lips.

"Breakfast's in the oven."

"Oh, um..." Alaine's expression fell.

Finishing the remnants of his coffee in one gulp, the hunter scooped up his plate into his hands and rose from the table. He tossed the rest of his meal into the waste basket before placing the dirty dishes into the sink. When he walked past Alaine on his way out of the kitchen, his hand brushed up against hers and reflexively, his jaw tightened.

"Dean, wait."

 _Dammit_. As if his limbs had a mind of their own, he felt himself come to a stop. He stood there with his back facing her, contemplating whether or not he should ignore her and leave when the sound of her soft footsteps drawing close reached his ears. He clenched and unclenched his jaw before turning around to face her.

"Yeah?"

She approached him slowly. Her eyes studied his impassive face, an uneasy expression settling over her feminine features. By the way her thin brows furrowed together, he could tell she was working up the courage to speak her mind. Although he already knew what she'd say, he gave her time to gather herself.

"Listen, about...about last night, I was wasted, and I wasn't really thinking straight. And then this morning, I...It was—"

For the sake of saving himself the humiliation of being rejected, Dean chose to cut her off right there. He gave her a tight-lipped smile, his gaze flickering away from her face.

"I get it. It was a mistake."

Dean hated how bitter he sounded saying those words. It wasn't his first time being shot down by a woman. He knew it shouldn't bother him, but hell, he couldn't help that it did. It bothered him more than anything. The moment she ran out of his room like a bat straight out of hell, Dean instantly regretted his attempt at making a move on her. He'd woken up with her in his bed, and the memory of their kiss still fresh in his mind. He couldn't stop himself from feeling aroused. The attraction had been there and for a moment he thought she'd felt it too, but with the way her eyes were now regarding him—as if with regret—he wanted nothing more than to forget about the whole damn thing.

"You don't have to say anything else, Alaine," he added, his tone dejected. "Let's leave it at that."

Her frown deepening, Alaine shook her head softly. "That's not what I was trying to—"

Dean didn't let her finish. "I really ain't in the mood to continue this conversation. We good or not?"

"Yes," she mumbled in defeat, her gaze falling from his face. "We're good."

"Good. I gotta go out on a supply run. You need anything?"

"No."

"I'll be back later. Text me if anything comes  to mind."

And with that, Dean left the kitchen, leaving Alaine where she stood, unsure if she should feel relieved or disappointed in the way things turned out.

 _It's for the best,_ spoke the voice of her subconscious. _Better to end it before it even starts._

Although a part of agreed, Alaine couldn't shake the feeling in the pit of her stomach. She closed her eyes and let out a long, burdened sigh. She decided to turn her attention onto her awaiting breakfast before the rest of her appetite was shot to hell.

*     *     *

In the late evening, Dean strolled back into the bunker with a thundering migraine, smelling of bourbon and cheap perfume. After restocking the fridge with the groceries he'd bought on his way back home from the bar, he walked through the halls towards his bedroom when the sound of muffled gunfire echoed around him. Frowning, he changed destinations and headed down a different corridor. As he approached the gun range, he saw that the door had been left ajar. He stole a peek inside the room, his eyes falling on Alaine.

She was standing, her posture squared, and with her hands wrapped firmly around her favored firearm. Her long hair was tied up into a neat ponytail that hung down the center of her back. From the side, her features looked hardened in concentration. He watched the way her delicate fingers handled the weapon. She quickly ejected the empty clip and reloaded her gun with a new magazine, pulling back the slide to chamber the first round.

Six shots were fired off at the paper target hanging at the opposite end of the room, four landing dead center in the chest while the last two had been headshots. He thought she'd empty out the rest of her clip, but when she stopped to click the safety back on, Dean cleared his throat and knocked on the door.

"Hey."

Alaine lowered the gun, her eyes flickering over to Dean. He casually made his way into the room, stopping to send her an awkward wave before stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Hi."

"You been here all day?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. It was pretty nice out. The weather was warm."

Alaine couldn't help the humorless scoff that slipped her lips. She set her gun down, fixing him an incredulous look.

"Really?"

The hunter looked back at her in confusion. "What?"

"Nothing, Dean. Forget I said anything. You seem to be pretty good at that anyway."

Alaine made a move to leave the room. She attempted to walk past him, but his hand shot out and latched around the bend of her arm. With a firm tug, Dean pulled her back.

"What's with the sudden attitude?"

"I don't have an attitude."

She tried to wrench herself out of his grasp. Dean stepped in front of her, his hold tightening. He met her gaze, the subtle anger burning in her beautiful amber eyes momentarily taking his breath away. Scowling, she pulled against his grip.

"I'm not in the mood for this. Let go."

"Not in the mood for what? I was just trying to talk to you."

"About the weather?"

"Seriously, what's your problem?"

"I don't have a problem," she snapped. "Dammit, just let me go."

He stepped forward. "No."

Dean's warm breath washed over her. She smelled the traces of alcohol, along with another odd fragrance she couldn't place until there was only a hare's breadth of distance separating them. When she picked up the sweet, almost candy-like scent, an angry glower shadowed over her face.

Scrunching up her nose in disgust, she shoved at Dean's chest, the amount of force she applied sending him stumbling backwards. His eyes widened in shock.

"You're unbelievable." Mouth curling up in disdain, she shot him a glare. "Go back to whatever woman you fucked and just leave me the hell alone."

"What the hell are you talking about? I didn't fuck anyone—"

"Not that I care, but that cheap perfume you got all over you says different."

Dean mentally cursed himself. _The drunk redhead from the bar._ Although he hadn't done anything but buy her a few drinks and call her pretty, the woman had been hellbent on taking him back to her place. She kept throwing herself at him, _literally_ , which was why he'd come home with her scent all over his jacket.

"Alaine, all I did was go out for some drinks. That's it."

"I don't care." She sighed, her angry gaze flickering away from his face. "Just leave me alone, alright?"

Without another word, Alaine stormed out of the gun range. As she walked down the hall towards he bedroom, she half expected to hear Dean running after her, but the sound of his heavy footsteps never came. Quietly, she made it to her room and sealed herself inside.

 _Way to be a bitch,_ nagged her inner voice.

She groaned in frustration, shoving her face into her hands. She hadn't meant to be so rude to him. Hell, she'd had a few drinks herself before her whiskey-influenced emotions drew her over to the gun range to blow off some steam. She'd been upset at how easily Dean had brushed her off. It felt as if last night's kiss and what happened in the morning hadn't meant a thing. He'd been so quick to think she'd seen it all as a mistake, and hadn't let her correct his misguided assumption. Had he let her talk, she would've probably found herself telling him just how much she enjoyed it. Why? She didn't know.

Climbing into bed, Alaine switched off the bedside lamp and settled against her pillow. She stared up at the ceiling in the dark.

_Why the hell did she have to be so attracted to him?_

She could feel the tug-of-war battle between her subconscious and her dormant desires. She wanted Dean, more than he'd ever want her, intimately _and_ emotionally.

With another groan, Alaine flopped onto her side and closed her eyes. She wrapped herself up in the sheets, hoping sleep would take her soon so she wouldn't have to stay up brooding over what she couldn't have.


	10. X

_**Ten** _

It was a humid July afternoon. Alaine had been inside the bunker, keeping to herself while Dean had gone into town to pick up some things. Two long weeks had come and gone, and in that time frame, things had changed even more for the two. 

For Dean, spending so much time in close proximity to Alaine had begun to drive him out of his mind. With the realization of the fact that he was unbearably attracted to her, he was finding it more difficult to control himself around her. He'd resorted to avoiding Alaine as much as he possibly could just to play it safe. 

Whether in the kitchen, walking past one another in the halls, or bumping into each other in the library, each short encounter with her added onto his growing frustration. They'd only been out on two recent hunts and on both, they had been forced to share a motel room. She'd been against letting him sleep on the floor, leaving him no choice but to climb into bed with her. It had been absolute torture having to endure being so close. 

Even being trapped within the confines of his Impala for hours on end with her by his side was enough to drive him up a wall. They'd do some light chatting and Dean would struggle to keep himself from looking at her. He'd go on to surreptitiously admire her every chance he got and it was never for long. He'd stare for a brief moment before tearing his gaze away and forcing his attention to be on something else. 

Looking from the outside, the situation was almost laughable. He'd rarely ever look her in the eyes, would avoid any sort of physical contact, and on rare occasions would become breathless whenever she'd stand too close. He'd been bold enough to kiss her that night in the kitchen. He knew what he'd done, he knew why he'd wanted to do it, but now, he wasn't sure why he was so hesitant to do it again. 

Dean was one to take whatever he wanted without a moment's thought, which made no sense when it came to Alaine. If it were any other woman, he'd seduce her into sleeping with him and completely have his way with her. He couldn't deny that he desired nothing more than to be intimate with her, to feel her in ways that'd been engraved into his memory. However, there was something else brewing inside of him; something foreign. It was enough to rid him of the need to take whatever women crossed his path to bed. He no longer sought sex from strangers. Dean couldn't understand it, but for whatever strange reason, his thoughts, the carnal yearning all centered onto _one_ person:

Alaine. 

It was something completely...unexpected. The more he kept himself away, the more he wanted her. And yet, his longing wasn't as simple as something solely sexual. It was driven by an emotion he couldn't comprehend. It kept him up at night, it stopped him from thinking of anything else other than her. The unknown feeling had turned into a tether, linking him to her. 

It was as if he'd woken up one day and no longer saw her as his childhood friend, or the sweet, young girl he'd lost his innocence to. He'd look at her and would see the strong, beautiful woman she'd turned out to be; a woman he couldn't help but want in ways he never thought were possible. 

Whatever attraction he felt was now developing into something entirely different, and it was earlier this morning when the realization suddenly struck him. 

He'd walked in on her cleaning the kitchen. Music had been playing softly from her phone sitting on the counter while she wiped down the stove with a soapy dish rag. It was something in Spanish; he'd been able to tell by the way her hips moved to the tropical rhythm. She'd been in her element, completely unaware of his lurking presence in the doorway. She hummed along to the song, her ponytail swinging as she swayed her head from side-to-side. In that moment, she looked breathtaking, and Dean's heart had jumped into a wild gallop at the sight of her. 

He ended up leaving before she could discover him. That had been around ten in the morning. It was now a quarter to three, and Dean was sitting in the middle of a diner, picking at his half-eaten lunch, still reluctant on going back home. 

With a sigh, he took a swig of his beer when his phone chimed from inside of his pocket. He set the bottle back down onto the table, his hand then reaching into his jacket to fish out the device. Upon unlocking it, he saw that he'd just received a text message from Alaine. He clicked the notification to open up their messaging thread. 

**_Lainey_ **

**_-Where are you? I need you to pick me up some deodorant and face moisturizer from the drug store._ **

He quickly typed back a response and hit send. 

**_-Got it. Be home soon._ **

Stowing away his phone, Dean called over the waitress to pay for his meal, asking for a to-go box before slipping out of the booth. When she came back with his change and his unfinished food, he made it out to his Impala and drove off. 

*     *     *

Back at the bunker, Alaine had been in the middle of organizing some of the books in the library in alphabetical order. She'd finished up with the last shelf and dusted off her hands on her jeans when the iron door to her underground home opened and slammed shut. 

She stole a glance at her wrist watch. It was a little over three o'clock. Rising back onto her feet, Alaine walked out into the open to welcome Dean, but came to an abrupt stop when the man setting his bags down onto the operations' table turned to cast her a surprise glance. 

"Alaine?" 

She met the eyes of Sam Winchester, returning him an equally-confused look as he walked over. 

"Sam?" 

"What...what are you doing here?" he asked, a smile forming on his lips. 

"I, uh...I sorta live here now, courtesy of your brother."

"Really? That's great."

Alaine blinked. "Sam, where the hell have you been? It's been three whole months. You've had Dean looking all over for you."

"I know he has."

"Why haven't you called him? Hell, why are you just now popping back up?" 

The younger Winchester held her scrutinizing gaze. He sighed, his shoulders slumping as a grim expression settled onto his face. She took notice of this and stepped forward, concern furrowing her brow. 

"Is everything alright?" 

Sam shook his head. "No. We're all in danger."

By the look in his hazel eyes, Alaine knew he wasn't joking. "What do you mean?" she asked. 

"I think you should sit for what I'm about to tell you."

Alaine did just that, settling herself into a chair as Sam plopped himself down in the seat adjacent from her. For a small moment, he didn't know how to begin relating to her all the information she needed to know. After taking some time to think, he chose to start from the very beginning. 

Alaine had already been aware of most of the details. The brothers had hunted for the demon that killed their mother alongside their father, they managed to stop the Apocalypse, Dean had died and gone to hell, Angels actually existed and weren't just a myth. Everything else she needed to know hadn't been much of a surprise to her, given the wacky lives the Winchesters have lived thus far. When Sam rounded up to the present, he told her of the fall of the angels and how they'd tried to seal the gates of hell and failed. He then went on to explain his reason for walking out on Dean, and told her of the things he'd done while being away. 

He'd spent his time searching for the angel that'd possessed him. Although he had the help of their good friend Castiel, he hadn't been able to locate Gadreel. He even brought up how he knew Dean had been looking for him. It had been Castiel who'd told him, and in return Sam had asked him not to let his brother know where he was. 

"But why?" she'd asked, confused as to why Sam would want to hide his whereabouts. 

He had merely sighed and said, "The time wasn't right."

Going into more detail, Sam told her of a discovery he'd made in the midst of his search for Gadreel. The angel named Metatron, the one behind the killing of his good friend Kevin, was in the works of planning something that would effect the entire population of the human race. He refused to say what exactly, explaining that he needed Dean to be present before he said anything further. 

Now fully brought up to speed with everything, Alaine took a moment to gather her thoughts. It was so much to process, she felt like her head was going to burst. Leaning back in her seat, she expelled a long sigh. 

"Thanks for bringing me in the loop. I had no idea all this was going on."

Sam offered her a smile. "Right now this situation calls for an all-hands-on-deck, and what better person to bring on board than you." 

"I'm happy to help in any way that I can. You can count on me."

From the next room, both hunters heard the sound of someone entering the bunker. They exchanged a quick look before they simultaneously rose from their seats and turned towards the library's entranceway. 

"Alaine. Yo, you in here? I got the stuff you asked for."

"In the library," she called back. 

Treading down the iron staircase, Dean cast a glance at the room below. He noticed a familiar looking set of duffel bags sitting on the operations' table. Without warning, a wave of anger swelled in him. He hurriedly descended the stairs, dropping the small plastic bags he'd been carrying next to the duffels before stalking his way over to the library. 

As he expected, he found Sam standing in the middle of the room. His eyes briefly flickered over to Alaine, his jaw tensing. 

"Dean."

Turning his attention onto his brother, the elder Winchester fixed him an angry scowl. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick your ass right now."

"Listen, I know you're mad—" 

"Mad?" he interrupted, his voice seething. "You go and disappear for three whole months and think I'm just 'mad?'" 

"Alright, I get it. You're pissed."

"Damn right I'm pissed!" Dean blared. Stepping forward, he drew closer to his brother. "The hell were you, Sam? I looked everywhere, I even had Cas searchin' for your ass."

"I know."

"I'm sorry, what?" 

Sam sighed. "I knew you were looking for me. I asked Cas not to tell you where I was, or what I was doing."

The elder Winchester's eyes widened in incredulity. "You gotta be friggin' kiddin' me!" 

"Dean, listen. I didn't come here to argue with you. You can be angry all you want later. Right now I really need you to listen to what I have to say."

"Why the hell should I? I swear I'm kicking both of your asses!" 

"Dean," Alaine spoke up, gaining the enraged hunter's attention. "You need to hear him out."

He took note of the urgency in her voice before looking back at Sam. "Fine. Start talking."

"Cas and I have been working together since I left. We've been trying to track down Gadreel. About a couple of weeks ago, we got some Intel on Metatron and decided to follow the lead. We ended up being attacked by a swarm of demons, and were hardly able to fight them all off."

"Demons?" asked Dean, brows furrowing in confusion. "The hell do they have to do with him?" 

"We asked ourselves the same thing, then one of the demons we managed to capture told us."

"Told you what?" 

"That Metatron's in league with hell."

The eldest brother scoffed in disbelief. "You can't be serious. What's he playing at?" 

"This is where it gets bad. Before I killed the demon, it told me what Metatron's plans are. It said he's going to wipe out the entire human race."

Standing beside Sam, Alaine turned to him with a bewildered expression. "He can't do that...can he?" 

"Not alone," Sam said. "By himself, he doesn't have the power to pull it off, but with help, he could kill us all in the blink of an eye."

Dean's face now displayed pure, unfiltered anger. " Who's he got on his side? Crowley?" 

"I'm not sure. We weren't able to get that out of the demon."

"Did you find anything else out?" 

Sam nodded. "I know how Metatron's going to try to pull all this off."

"Well, don't keep us in suspense," Dean urged, his voice firm. "Spit it out."

The younger Winchester looked upon his brother for a brief moment. He swallowed hard before his lips parted to speak once more. 

"Metatron's...Metatron's going to spring Lucifer out of the cage."

Silence fell over the room. Sam let this revelation hang in the air, allowing both Dean and Alaine a moment to absorb the severity of the situation.

"What?" she'd asked, fear and unease audible in her trembling voice.

Sam proceeded to explain. "There's this mythical object called the Spear of Triam. It's a weapon forged with the powers of Zeus' thunderbolt, Poseidon's trident and Hades' pitchfork. It was used by the demigod Perseus to kill Cronus. With the combined powers of the gods, that spear could be used to do just about anything. Metatron's already amped-up up with the Angel tablet, but with the spear in his possession, he could break Lucifer out and bring hell on earth."

"Then we have to find it before he does," Dean spoke up.

"Exactly."

"But...how do we find a weapon that has no trace of ever really existing?" Alaine questioned. "I mean, in the movie _Wrath of the Titans,_ it was just something made up. It doesn't even exists in Greek Mythology. You're telling us the damn thing is actually _real_?"

Sam nodded once more. "It's definitely real. There's different versions, different lore. Most of them speak of Zeus releasing his siblings from Cronus' stomach and joining forces with them and the Cyclopes to take him down. Some also say that Zeus locked Cronus away in Tartarus while others talk about Cronus being forgiven and allowed to rule over a distant land. Cas and I did some digging and found out that it didn't really go down the way it's told in the lore. Believe it or not, there's some actual truth to what's in that movie."

Dean expelled a burdened sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb and closed his eyes. "Son of a bitch. Just when I was starting to get used to the peace and quiet around here."

"We're gonna have to put all our heads together on this one. Cas is working on something to help. In the meantime, I say we try to busy ourselves with some cases and a bit of research."

"Alright," said Dean. "Guess I'll comb through the lore to see if I can find anything relating to the spear."

"I'll help you," Alaine offered. 

The elder Winchester cast her a dismissive glance. "I'm good on my own. Why don't you work with Sam on findin' us a case?"

A pang of disappointment tightened her chest. She faked a smile. "Oh...okay."

"Good. I'll leave you two to it then."

*     *     *

A few hours had passed since Sam's return. It was now nine o'clock, and all three hunters sat in the operations room, Sam at the head of the table with Dean at his left hand. Alaine had taken up a chair at the far end, secluding herself in her own research as she scanned the web for a possible case. 

The sound of typing and book pages being flipped filled the space of the room, and Dean found himself nearing the point of insanity. Closing the ancient tome in his hand, he set it down on the table. 

"Okay, I'm gonna go stir-crazy if I have to sit here for another minute. Please, tell me you guys got somethin'."

"I've got nothing," Sam spoke, his gaze glued to his laptop's screen. "No wind on a case, or leads on the spear."

"Yeah, me neither," Alaine added from across the table. 

Dean leaned forward in his seat, his attention settling onto his brother. "Looks like we're not finding anything today. I say we call it a night on the research."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Sam agreed.

"I'm in the mood to grab a few drinks, you two down?"

Alaine looked up to find Dean's eyes on her. She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I could use a beer or two. What about you, Sam?"

"Uh, sure," he smiled, shutting his laptop. "I still kind of owe you for last time since we never got the chance to catch up."

"Well, you'll definitely be making it up to me tonight."

Dean rose from his seat. "Alright. I'm gonna grab my stuff. I'll meet you two outside."

After grabbing a jacket from her room along with a bit of money, Alaine joined the brothers in the Impala. They'd driven to the next town over, stopping at a dive bar Dean insisted on checking out. When the trio walked into the establishment, they cut through the crowd of patrons and found themselves a nice empty table. Dean offered to go grab them a round of beers and walked off towards the bar, leaving Sam and Alaine in one another's company. 

Settling into the chair beside her, Sam turned to her with a smile. 

"You know, I was pretty surprised to find you in the bunker."

"I bet," Alaine replied over the blaring music. She returned his smile. "It's good to see you again. I gotta say, I was a little worried about you."

"What? Really?" 

"Absolutely, but I see it was all for nothing. You're not the fragile little Sammy I used to know. You've gone and sprouted into a full blown giant."

Sam laughed. "Thank God. I hated being so short growing up. I remember you used to pick on me a lot. What was that nickname you used? 'Short stack?'" 

"I used to love calling you that. Now I guess I'm gonna have to resort to something else. How does 'giraffe legs' sound?" 

"Funny, but I'm sure you can come up with something better."

"Give me 'til the end of the night, I'll make sure to find one to your liking," Alaine promised with a smirk. 

After a couple of minutes of chatting, Dean appeared at the table with three beers. He handed them off, keeping one for himself as he sat down across from his brother. 

"So, what do you to say we play some pool later?" 

Alaine hid her smirk behind the rim of her bottle. "Looks like someone hasn't learned his lesson."

Dean frowned. "We agreed to never bring that up again."

"Bring what up?" Sam asked, looking between the both of them, confused. 

"Nothing. Just the fact that I humiliated him by winning all of his money in a match."

The younger Winchester's face lit up in amusement. "No kidding? Dean never loses." 

"He did to me."

"How about you wipe that cocky grin off your face and take me on in a drinking contest?"

"Drinking contest?" She chuckled. "I think I'll pass."

"Why? Scared you're gonna get your ass beat?" Dean taunted.

Alaine raised a brow, fixing him a challenging look in return. "Fine. You're on, Winchester."

"Uh, guys?" Sam looked between the both of them. "You think that's a good idea?"

"Don't worry, Sammy." Shoving his hands into his pockets, Dean took out the keys to the Impala and tossed them over to his brother. "You're taking up the role of designated driver tonight."


	11. XI

**_Eleven_ **

"Woo! Alright, who's ready for another round?"

From across the table, Sam looked at his brother in horror. "Dean, I think you should slow down. You've already had more than enough—"

The drunken hunter dismissed him with a flick of his wrist. "Says who? This here's only my fifth bottle. Or is it sixth? Seventh maybe? Ah, who cares! Alaine, you still wanna keep goin'?"

Finishing off her beer in one gulp, she turned back to the elder Winchester, her lips quirking up into a playful smile. She tossed her long hair behind her and shot him a daring look. "I still got some fight left in me. I told you, Dean, there's no way in hell I'm letting you win."

"Mmm, sexy _and_ competitive? You give a man all kinds of ideas."

Sam groaned internally. He threw his head back, sighing in exasperation as he stared up at the bar's ceiling.

"Down, boy. Can't you see you're making Sammy uncomfortable?" Reaching beside  her, Alaine placed a small hand over Sam's knee under the table and gave it a light squeeze.   
   
"Guys, can we please go home? You two have been at it for over three hours already."

"Come on, little brother. Don't be such a stick-in-the-mud. Lighten up some."

Sam fixed Dean a pointed look, his features hardening.

"Dean's right, Sam. You've been a little uptight. Have another beer."

The hunter went to protest when the sound of his brother’s hands slapping down onto the table cut him short. He looked over to see Dean rise from his seat.

"I'll be back. I'm gettin' us another round."

With a wink, the elder Winchester strolled away towards the crowd. He pushed past the group of bodies blocking his path, mumbling _excuse me's_ under his breath until he reached the polished wooden counter of the bar. He nodded at the bartender, signaling the guy to bring him another three bottles of beer when a pair of small, feather-light hands settled onto his hips. He stiffened, his body shifting slightly as the whisper of a woman's voice caressed his ear.

"Hey there, good looking."

Turning around slowly, Dean came face-to-face with a beautiful blonde. She was smiling at him, her dazzling blue eyes glinting in the bar's overhead lights. She cocked her head to the side and bit her lip as she stepped into him.

Surprised, he offered her an awkward smile before clearing his throat. "Uh, hi."

"Ain't you a beauty. What's your name?"

"Dean."

The blonde trailed her hands up his sides, slipping them underneath his jacket to touch his waist. "Dean. My name's Kristy. I've been eyeing you for a while now."

Dean took a step back. "Have you?"

"Oh, yes. When I see something I want, I just have to go for it, and you..." she paused, her gaze raking over him. "You're absolutely _delicious_."

Under different circumstances, Dean wouldn't think twice about charming his way into this woman's bed. She was hot, and was openly hinting at wanting sex. Hell, that's all he'd need to make a move. Yet, as he watched her undress him with her eyes, a wave of discomfort settled over him. She wasn't what he wanted, or better yet, _wh_ o he wanted. For the past couple of months, things had been this way. He'd come across all kinds of women willing to give themselves up to him, but never felt the drive to sleep with any of them. It was because his mind was only focused on one woman, and as much as he hated it, he couldn't bring himself to be with anyone else. The mere thought made him cringe, and having this blonde's hands groping him all over had him struggling not to throw her right off.

"Listen, sweetheart. I don't mean to sound like a dick, but you're barkin' up the wrong tree." Grabbing a hold of her wrists, he gently but firmly pushed her away.

"Oh?" She blinked, her eyes falling to his left ring finger. "You don't seem to be spoken for."

"I don't have to be."

The blonde pulled her hands back. "So, what are you? Gay or something?"

"No." Dean frowned. The muscle in his jaw ticked. "Why don't you just walk away before you make a fool out of yourself."

"Excuse me?"

Dean groaned internally. He turned his gaze away to steal a glance over at the other end of the establishment where his table was. He quickly noticed Sam sitting where he'd left him, his eyes glued onto his phone, but Alaine was nowhere to be seen. Brows furrowing, he scanned the crowd of faces, searching for her admist the multitude of people.

"Hey, I'm talking to—"

Waving her off, the hunter dismissed her. "Yeah, you have a good night."

"Asshole."

Dean felt her brush past him as she stormed off. A moment later, a quick tap came over his shoulder. He turned and the bartender smiled from behind the counter before handing him the beers. He nodded curtly, taking the bottles into his hands.

When Dean approached their table, Sam had lifted his gaze from his phone just in time to meet his brother's questioning stare.

"Where'd Alaine go?"

Sam motioned over to the other side of the bar. "Restroom."

"How long?"

"I'd say about five minutes."

Dean remained standing. He set the bottles down, his attention turning back onto the crowd. Sam noticed the frown knitting his brows together and leaned forward in his seat.

"Is something wrong."

The elder Winchester surveyed his surroundings. "She should've been back by now."

"There's probably a line. I'm sure she's fine, Dean."

"Yeah."

Sam eyed his brother curiously, a knowing expression coming over his face. He smiled softly. "This isn't like you."

"What?"

"This. You worrying over a girl."

Dean's hard gaze flickered back onto Sam. "She's our friend. Why wouldn't I?"

"Yeah, but this is different, and don't even think about denying it. I see right through you."

"What are you talkin' about, Sam?"

Folding his arms across his chest, Sam fixed his brother a pointed look. "Admit it. You like her."

"Seriously? What are we, twelve?"

"Come on, Dean. You don't have to get all defensive."

"I'm not gettin' defensive."

Sam smiled again. "Listen, it's okay if you like her. I was just gonna say that I think it'll be a good thing, you know? The two of you finally ending up together."

Dean scoffed, looking away into the crowd. "Right. Like that'll ever happen."

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Probably 'cause she doesn't see me that way."

"And how do you know that?"

Dean had planned on answering him, however, his gaze had zeroed in on something across the room. His jaw tightened, prompting Sam to follow his line of sight.

"What is it?"

Shoulders tensing, the elder Winchester tightened his hands into fists. Anger amassed within him as he stared off into the distance.

"Stay here."

Ignoring the demands of his brother, Dean stalked through the crowd. He kept his gaze trained onto her face, watching her head fall back with laughter as a pair of hands grabbed her around the waist. They pulled her in, and a blush colored her already flushed cheeks. In an instant, he found himself approaching the pair, the sound of his own heartbeat drowning out the thundering music blaring in his ears. He witnessed her reach out to cup the stranger's jaw into her palm, and every muscle in his body stiffened the moment he saw her being pressed up against a wall. He was fueled by a raging jealousy that blindsided him. He didn't know where it came from, but welcomed the foreign feeling nonetheless before his anger took charge and blocked the rest of the world out.

He hadn't felt the pain of his fist colliding with the man's face. He'd heard it—the loud crack of bones shattering. He'd punched the stranger square in the nose, sending him flying backwards into an empty table. He stepped towards the man crumpled on on the floor in a bloody heap with the intent of beating him unconscious, but a slender arm shot out and barred the path.

"Dean! What are you doing?"

Her voice. He snapped his attention down to her, his nostrils flaring. Rage surged through his being. His hands trembled at his sides and he clenched them hard. She moved in front of him, her panicked gaze meeting his as she settled her hands onto his chest in an attempt to hold him back.

"Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you?" she shouted.

By now, a group of patrons had begun to circle around them. He heard the gasps and whispers they passed amongst each other.

"Car. _Now_."

"Excuse me?"

Dean returned her defying gaze with an icy glare. "You heard me. Let's go."

"No."

At that moment, Sam appeared beside him. He felt his brother grab a hold of his shoulder.

"Dean. Come on, man."

She now flickered her attention over to the younger Winchester. She fixed him a pleading look.

"Alaine, just listen to him. Let's go."

"No. I'm not going anywhere!"

Moving towards her, Dean locked his fingers around her wrist and squeezed. "So help me God, I'll drag your ass out of here."

Sam pulled him back. "Dean, relax. Let's just all get in the car before we get ourselves kicked out."

Alaine wrenched out of Dean's grasp. She stormed off in the direction of the bar's exit, leaving the brothers behind. As the elder Winchester made a move to follow, Sam stopped him.

"Dude, what the hell happened?"

Brushing him off, Dean stalked away. "Nothing. Just drop it."

*     *     *

The drive back to the bunker had been absolutely nerve-wracking. No one had spoken a word throughout the entire ride. Dean sat at the wheel, the muscles in his face painfully tensed. He kept his eyes glued to the road, his fingers curled tight around the steering wheel to the point of cutting blood circulation. Sam hadn't dared to comment on what happened back at the bar. He merely rode beside his brother in the passenger seat, and occasionally stole brief glances his way. In the backseat, Alaine sat quietly, staring out of the window at the passing scenery. 

The tension in the air was definitely palpable. Caught in the middle of their quarrel, Sam had been forced to sit through the silence. He was aware of the events that would transpire once they arrived home, and was smart enough to know not to stand in Dean's way, lest he wanted to be at the receiving end of his anger. He'd almost gotten into a fight of his own with his brother when he'd offered to drive. Sobered by his anger, Dean had snatched the keys out his hand and jumped behind the wheel before Sam could even protest.

To his relief, they managed to arrive at the bunker quickly, and in one piece. As Dean rolled the Impala into the underground garage, Alaine had waisted no time in clambering out of the backseat. She threw the door open and flew out, forcing Dean to slam the breaks.

"Dammit—Sam, park the car."

Temporarily stationing the vehicle, Dean jumped out. He bolted after her as she sped through the door leading into the bunker's halls. He cursed under his breath and trailed behind, his quick steps carrying him towards her.

"Alaine!"

The minute she stepped into the corridor, she hastened her stride. She clenched her fists, compressing the anger she felt bubbling up inside of her. She wasn't too far from her room when his voice reached her from around the corner. Desperate to get away, she now ran the rest of the way, her head thumping as hard as her heart did inside of her chest. She thought she'd escape when the door to her sanctuary came into view and sprinted it towards it. Yet, as she reached for the old, rusted doorknob and let herself inside, hurried footsteps came from behind her. She quickly ducked into the room, however, she hadn't closed the door fast enough.

Dean burst through it. Chest heaving, he stormed inside, slamming the door shut with his foot before he reached for Alaine. He then grabbed her and she screamed as he pushed her up against the wall.

"Get off!"

Dean kept her small frame pinned underneath his. He used his weight to trap her, his grip locking around her upper arms, holding her firmly in place as he loomed over her.

"I said get off!"

Rage radiated off of him in pulsing waves. He met her gaze. "What the hell’s wrong with you?"

"Let me go!"

Using what little force she could, Alaine attempted to push him away. She shoved at his shoulders, but his rigid stature remained immovable. She cussed, trying harder to drive him back, her small fists beating at his chest. They bounced off the hard muscles, barely making the man flinch.

"Get the hell off of me!" she ordered once more.

Dean disobeyed. "No," he snapped, his tone deathly controlled.

Alaine sensed the hunter's irritation by the lividness in his intense stare and quickly grabbed onto his wrists. She pulled hard as frustrated grunts escaped her. She fought to wrench out of his grasp, yet he wouldn't budge. She let out angry screams, her body writhing against his in efforts of bucking him off.

"Calm down—"

"Fuck you!"

Alaine's words trembled as she spoke. An unanticipated feeling began to spiral towards the surface. Her lungs constricted, limiting the amount of air she could draw in. The room now began to spin and she breathed harder as her stomach churned.

"Dammit, just stop!"

Dean's voice reverberated off the concrete walls. He leveled his face to hers, his eyes taking in the faltering of her anger as another emotion flickered across her features. She struggled against him, her own gaze refusing to meet his.

"You're a selfish bastard!" she cried out. "You only think of yourself and I hate it."

"What? Where the hell is this coming from?"

"You, you heartless son of a bitch!"

His heart thundered inside of his chest as his eyes flickered all over her face. "Alaine—"

Looking up at him, her features tightened and she fixed him with a cold stare. "I saw you with that fucking blonde."

"Who?"

"The one from the bar! Her hands were all over you."

Realization quickly flooded over him. Letting go of her arms, Dean swiftly cupped her cheeks into his palm. "Wait, listen to me—"

"Listen to what? One minute you act like you want to fuck me, the next is like you can't even stand to be in the same room as me. Is this just some game to you?"

She tried to pull away from his touch, but Dean turned her gaze right back to his.

"That's not what this is."

" _This_...it's all just bullshit and I don't want it. I _so_ fucking don't. Get the hell off of me."

Desperation now clawing its way up his throat, Dean pressed himself flush to her." No, dammit! Would you just listen to me? I wish you weren't friggin' drunk right now."

"I'm not drunk!"

"Yes, you are. You can't even stand on your own two feet! I'm the only reason why you haven't fallen on your ass yet. Just relax and let me talk to you."

"Screw what you have to say," she spat. "Get out of my room and leave me alone!"

Angrily, Dean pressed his forehead to hers. "Hey—look at me! That's enough. You hear? Calm down."

He felt the frantic rising and falling of her bosom, hearing the rasp of her erratic breath as her gaze snapped up to his. She punched at his chest and screamed at him to release her, but Dean ignored every one of her demands.

He could no longer bare it. Alaine's reddened eyes held his, her dark hair falling around her face. A surge of intensity crackled around them, and Dean was nearly shaking in an attempt to keep his raging emotions in check. He didn't remember ever having this ache in him, this all-consuming longing that pulled him towards a woman. It was something he never thought he'd want or need, and it filled his being with a desire so strong, it knocked the air right out of his lungs.

Without even stopping to think of the repercussions, he emitted a low growl and captured her mouth with his. He'd claimed her lips suddenly, almost possessively, using his tongue to steal the gasp of breath she sucked in, and just like that, all the fight left Alaine's body in a rush.

She let out a soft moan, the hands at his chest halting their assault to clutch onto his shoulders. Her legs buckled and she pulled him into her as a shiver ran down her spine. The fire of desire ripped through them, taking, demanding. Dean found himself falling prey to the insatiable hunger as his hands left her face to skim along her curves. He grabbed and pulled, not satisfied with the closeness of their bodies. He needed to feel more and the intrusive layers of clothing separating them only furthered his desperation.

Swiftly, he pulled off his jacket. It fell to the floor in a heavy heap along with his long-sleeved shirt. Alaine's fingers traced up the length of his arms, gripping at the taut muscles of his biceps. He reached for her leather jacket and pushed it halfway down her shoulders before she shrugged it off the rest of the way.

The entire time, Dean kept his mouth on hers. He held her bottom lip between his teeth, sucking gently. He felt her tongue dart out to meet his, his chest heaving with the gentle caress. He groaned low and deep, and Alaine shuddered against him. He palmed her ass, his hands squeezing as hard as he could. He then bent down to lift her small frame up into his arms, evoking a yelp of surprise from her.

Instinctively, her limbs wrapped around him. She cupped his face, her nails scratching at the groomed stubble framing his jaw. She pressed her thumb to the cleft in his chin and tilted his head back, her tongue sliding deep into his mouth. Alaine tasted him in small circles, stroking and licking. He moaned an expletive against her lips as he moved through the room.

In an instant, he stood at the side of her bed. She felt his body dipping, felt her legs tightening around his waist, and then he shoved her into the mattress and stretched himself over her, pinning her hips underneath his. He made a sound then, one that sent a chain of tremors along her abdomen. It tightened, clenched, and she moaned as his fingers slipped past the hem of her shirt and clawed at her back.

Her whole being was thrumming with need. She felt vulnerable, caught between the crossfire of her burning desire and the steady pull of her subconscious fighting to draw her back. Her thoughts were then taken away from the softness of Dean's lips as images from the bar flooded her mind.

She had seen them. She'd watched how that woman had thrown herself at him, and the smile Dean gave her in return. This had sparked a boiling jealousy inside of her. An anger like no other had quickly followed. For the sake of her own emotions, she'd walked away with the excuse of needing to use the restroom, and left Sam alone at the table. Yet, as she pushed past the bodies of patrons baracading her path, she'd unwillingly bumped into a man, and as their gazes met, breathtaking steel gray eyes finding hers, her inebriated mind said, _'to hell with Dean Winchester,'_ and threw all shred of care to the wind.

Had Dean not shown up when he had, she was sure her jealousy would've led her towards something regrettable. And although a part of her had been thankful for the unwanted rescue, she'd been enraged by the tone of authority he'd taken with her.

_Who the hell was he to demand anything of her?_

And just like a hard blow to the face, the thundering voice of her subconscious roared backed the answer, its cruel truth spearing through her lust-filled haze. 

_He is nothing to you, just as you are nothing to him._


	12. XII

_**Twelve** _

"Stop."

The moment that single command fell from Alaine's lips, everything inside of Dean came to a screeching halt. She'd pulled away from him, leaving him thirsting after the taste of her luscious mouth. He could feel his blood pulsing through his veins, a relentless throbbing that further deepened the ache in his groin. Breathing raged, he flickered his eyes open to meet her gaze.

She was sprawled out on her back, the waves of her brown hair spilling over the white cotton of her pillow. Her features were flushed, her parted lips swollen from the assault of his mouth. She looked absolutely breathtaking, even with the way her thin brows were drawn together into an soft frown.

And God how he wanted her—to feel her touch all across his skin, to bury himself into the warm depths of her body, to hear the way his name would roll off her tongue, forced out by the cries of pleasure. The desire was there, like a ravaging flame hungering to devour everything in its path. It burned red-hot, the heat of it almost suffocating. His chest trembled beneath the labored intakes of air as he stared into her whiskey-colored eyes.

"What's wrong?"

The warmth of his breath spilled over her face, the scent of beer and mint intoxicating to her senses. She pressed her palms to his shoulders as a sigh quivered along her lips.

 _Get rid of him,_ commanded her subconscious. She swallowed hard.

"Dean..."

Tenderly, the hunter's fingers stroked the skin of her waist. She surveyed the way his green eyes danced all over her face, as if trying to read into the thoughts presently swarming through her mind. His brows furrowed ever so slightly as a look of confusion coupled with worry settled onto his rugged features.

_Don't you dare fall for it. He's not interested in you. Don't be a fool. Don't give him what he wants..._

Alaine cursed the voice inside of her head. There was this swelling in her chest, much like a balloon on the verge of bursting. It hindered her ability to breathe.

"What's the matter?" His voice softened to a whisper, gravelly yet warm.

She closed her eyes, the gentleness reflecting in his own too much to bare. "Please...please go."

"What?"

The surprise was audible in the way the pitch of his tone dropped. She felt him shift over her, his hips drawing back to free hers.

"Alaine..."

"I said go!" she snapped.

Dean watched the corners of her mouth curl in disdain. She scrambled out from underneath him and jolted upright into a sitting position. She threw her arms around her midriff as if to shield herself, and snapped her gaze open to shoot him a warning glare.

"Get the hell out!"

Alaine's heart contracted in a pang of longing. She witnessed a flash of something unknown in his expression before his features hardened, the muscles around his mouth tightening.

"That's what you want?"

Dean's eyes burned with an emotion she didn't understand. Instead of answering him, or yelling at him to leave, she kept her mouth closed, the provided silence more than enough to force him up out of her bed and towards the door. She almost found herself retracting her demand, pleading for him not to go, but then he stopped to scoop up his jacket and long-sleeved shirt from the floor, and let himself out without offering her a final glance.

He'd slammed the door shut behind him. His absence echoed around her, leaving a raw feeling in her chest as her throat tightened with the threat of tears.

 _Pathetic,_ mocked the voice of her subconscious.

Angry, she flung one of her pillows across the room, a frustrated scream tearing through her lungs. A wave of loneliness then rocked her, and she buried her face into her hands in an effort to muffle the sobs eager to be freed.

*     *      *

Sam dragged himself out of bed around ten o'clock the following day. After freshening up and dressing into his day clothes, he ate a light breakfast before heading into the operations room to start his morning.

Sitting at the table was his brother, a glass of what appeared like whiskey clutched in his hand. As Sam approached, he noticed the half-empty bottle of Jack sitting in front of him. With a frown furrowing his brow, he drew close until coming upon the side of Dean's chair.

"Hey."

The elder Winchester turned in his seat. He watched Sam pull out the chair beside his to sit down.

"Hey."

"What's with the whiskey?"

Dean gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Long night." He raised the rim of his glass up to his lips and tossed back the remnants of his drink.

"It's ten in the morning," Sam pointed out. "Don't you think it's a little too early to start drinking?"

"Breakfast of champions, Sammy."

He watched as Dean set down his empty tumbler onto the table. A pause of silence fell over them before Sam cleared his throat and spoke up again.

"So...what happened last night?"

"Nothing."

"Really? You didn't talk to Alaine?"

A long, heavy sigh escaped Dean's mouth. He propped an elbow up onto the table and closed his eyes. He pressed his thumb to his temple in efforts of dulling the throbbing ache in his head. 

"No."

"Why not?"

"Sam, drop it."

"Did the two of you get into a fight?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Sam sighed in resignation, his attention drifting over to the ancient tomes scattered across the table. "Fine, change of subject then. Have you found anything on the spear yet?"

"No. You find us a case?"

At that moment, the sound of soft footsteps echoed in the operations room. Dean's entire body went rigid with awareness as the very atmosphere around him shifted with the force of her presence. He felt his insides clench, and his chest tighten as her delicate voice carried through the bunker.

"Morning, Sam."

Flickering his gaze over to Alaine, Sam fixed her a welcoming smile. "Morning."

She sauntered through the room, her laptop clutched firmly in her hands. Dean cast her a sidelong glance, his hesitance to meet her stare keeping him from looking at her head-on. From his peripheral, he noted she was dressed casual into a pair of blue jeans and a plain white henley, her long hair swept back into a high ponytail. Her lack of greeting as she entered the room only confirmed what had been circling around in his head:

She was pissed.

She hardly cast a look in his direction as she settled into a chair at the opposite end of the table. She'd deliberately sat herself as far away from him as possible, and although her expression didn't give away much, the tension between them was definitely still there.

Sensing this, Sam attempted to ease the heaviness around them. "So, Alaine, have you managed to come across a case yet?"

"As a matter of fact I have."

"Really? That fast?"

She nodded. She dropped her attention to her laptop as she flipped open the screen. "I couldn't sleep last night. I decided to stay up and do some searching."

She wasn't sure if it was all in her head, but Alaine swore she felt the intensity of Dean's gaze on her the moment those words left her mouth. With trembling fingers, she navigated to the internet browser to pull up the article she'd found all the while fighting back the urge to steal a glance at the elder Winchester's face.

"Here's what I found."

She turned the laptop around and pushed it towards Sam. The younger brother reached for it, bringing it close as he moved to inspect the news report displayed across the screen. He'd skimmed through it, then flickered his attention over to Dean who was too busy being ignored by Alaine.

Sam nudged him on the arm with his elbow. "Dude, take a look at this."

"What?" clipped the hunter, his eyes snapping over to his brother. He reluctantly diverted his attention onto what Sam was showing him. He only read the first couple of sentences in the article before casting him an annoyed glare. "This don't sound like us."

"I thought so too," Alaine spoke from across the table. "Keep reading."

Dean glanced over at her to find she was still refusing to look at him. He felt his stomach twist into a knot as he dropped his gaze back onto the laptop's screen. Following her instruction, the hunter read on. It hadn't taken him long to come to same conclusion both his brother and Alaine had come to.

Steven Briggs, construction worker who mysteriously wound up dead while working on the interior renovation of an old opera theater in Detroit. The circumstances were far too bazaar to even ignore the possibility of it being something of supernatural nature. He inspected the article further, then once finished, turned to look at Alaine once more. This time, he'd been surprised to find her already staring at him. The moment their eyes met, he felt his heart constrict with the same intense emotion reflecting back at him through her own whiskey-colored gaze.

"I say we get a head start on this case. If we leave within the hour, we'll make it there just before midnight."

Swallowing hard, the elder Winchester forced himself to look away. He turned to his brother, silently waiting for a response.

"I agree with Alaine," added Sam. "I think this is worth checking out."

Dean nodded slowly. Pushing back his chair, the hunter rose to his feet. "Alright. Let's do it then."

*      *      *

As Alaine had predicted, the trio arrived in Detroit at a quarter to twelve. Exhausted and in desperate need of a shower, the hunters checked into a cheap motel and set themselves up for the night. The boys had decided to rent out two rooms, one for them to share while the other was for the sake of Alaine's privacy. She gladly accepted the key when Dean placed it in her hand. However, the simple, involuntary brush of his fingertips across her palm sent a silent longing tugging at her heart. She'd merely shrugged off the ache that'd settled into her bones and retreated into the safety of her room where she shed a few tears of frustration before readying herself for bed.

In the morning, the brothers suited up into their FBI outfits and clambered into the Impala. Alaine had been restless most of the night. She'd been kept awake by her thoughts of Dean, and had been too tired to even tag along. She opted to stay back at the motel while Sam and Dean went to investigate the opera theater.

When the the pair of hunters arrived, they'd been met by a short policewoman standing at the foot of the steps leading up into the theater. She walked towards the Impala, her brows drawn into an authoritative frown as she stepped underneath the crime scene tape.

"Gentlemen, this is a no-parking zone. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Slamming the passenger door shut, Sam turned to the officer. He cast her a friendly smile as he withdrew his fake badge from the pocket of his suit jacket.

"We're here to investigate the scene. I'm Agent Jordan, and this here's my partner Agent Wayne."

As Dean rounded the hood of the Impala, the officer stepped forward to inspect their credentials.

"FBI?" She cast a questioning glance at both men. "I don't think this calls for a federal investigation."

The elder Winchester now spoke up. "We just go where they send us. Has the body been moved yet?"

"Yeah, it has. They're really isn't much to look at as for evidence if you ask me. I don't suspect any foul play. The guy must've lost his footing up on the rafters."

She moved to slip under the crime scene tape and the brothers followed her all the way up to the entrance where they both exchanged a mutual look of understanding before walking into the abandoned building. Once in the entrance hall, the policewoman turned to them.

"That's where we found him. You can imagine the hell we had to go through to get him down from there."

Dean lifted his gaze to the ceiling where the massive iron chandelier hung above them. He mentally referenced back to the article from the day before. He remembered it mentioning the man had been found, impaled onto the candlestick holders with his limbs crushed beyond comprehension. A simple fall from the overhead rafters wouldn't have caused such servere injuries, Dean was sure of that. Whoever—or _whatever_ —put him up there must've been driven by a malacious intent given the nature of the death itself. Dean understood that what he was looking at was far from an "accident."

"Has the witness been spoken to?"

"He's currently at the station," the officer answered Dean. "He was here working late with Briggs when it happened. He says he didn't see him for over an hour and went looking for him when he stumbled upon this. I gotta tell you, the guy's traumatized."

"Do you mind if we take a look around?"

"Have at it. I'll be right outside. Let me know if you need anything."

Turning his attention back onto the policewoman, Dean offered her a curt nod. "Will do."

After she vacated the building and the brothers were sure no one else was around they dug into their pockets and took out their EMF readers. Turning to Dean, Sam posed an idea.

"What do you say we split up?"

"Even if we do, it's still gonna take us all morning to sweep through the whole place."

"Well, let's just hope Alaine calls us soon with some useful insight. So far, I'm thinking vengeful spirit. Maybe."

"Or a demon attack," said Dean.

Sam nodded. "Probably. I'll head up to the second floor and leave the lobby to you. Let's meet back here."

Without another word, the brothers began the search and went their separate ways. Heading deeper into the theater, Dean found himself in an old grand hall where people once gathered for banquets and celebrations. He clicked on his flashlight and maneuvered past the rubble and broken furniture as he waved around the device held in his hand. After several long minutes of absolute nothing, he decided to move onto a different section when the sudden blaring of his cellphone ceased his movements. He quickly stowed his EMF into one pocket of his blazer before searching the other to retrieve his phone. Upon inspecting the screen, his eyes fell onto the name displayed across it and his heart lurched inside of his chest. He clenched the phone tightly in his hand for a moment, his finger briefly hovering over the answer icon. He then picked up on the fourth ring and placed his ear to the speaker.

"Yeah?"

 _"I've_ _tried contacting Sam but he hasn't been answering my calls,"_ came Alaine's voice.

Dean swallowed hard. "Must be the reception," he said. "You got something for us?"

_"_ _I think so. I found an old article dating back to the fifties that talks about a fire that burned most of the theater down."_

"What's it say?"

_"It says the fire started down in the dressing rooms in the basement. Everyone managed to get out in time except for a woman named_ _Miriam_ _Lowe. According to this, she was a rising starlet who'd gotten her first big break."_

"Does it say if the fire was intentional?"

_"It was. There'd been a rumor going on about Miriam. People accused her of sleeping with the director to get the leading role, and there was someone who'd taken things on a deep personal level. Police found stacks of hate mail addressed to her by a man named Stephen Jones. When they arrested him, he confessed to setting the fire that killed Miriam and was sentenced to death."_

"So, what, we're dealing with a vengeful spirit?" Dean asked.

_"That's what it's looking like to me. After the fire, the theater was shut down and abandoned. The state sold it over to a prospective buyer a few months ago who's planning on turning the place into_ _a_ _bookstore. My guess is all the interior work being done must've stirred up Miriam's spirit."_

The hunter sighed. "And now she's out lookin' for blood."

_"_ _You guys find anything_ _on_ _the vic?"_

"No. After we're done here, we're gonna head down to the station to talk to the witness. We should be back in a couple of hours, so stay put 'til then."

_"Okay."_

A tension-filled silence quickly befell them. The steady sound of Alaine's breathing invaded his senses, and for a moment, Dean closed his eyes. It was in this very instance where his chest contracted with the bone-deep longing that crept into the darkest recesses of his heart.

_"Listen, I...I gotta go. Do you need anything from me?"_

For a fleeting moment, Dean envisioned her standing before him. He envisioned her delicate face, the softness of her features, the warmth hidden behind her smile and her eyes. He yearned to feel her, to take her in his arms and kiss her until she melted against his body. A strange emptiness settled into his stomach and it ached like nothing he'd ever felt before.

 _"Dean?"_ came her velvet voice again. _"Hey, you there?"_

"Yeah," the hunter finally murmured. "I'm here."

_"Since I haven't been able to reach Sam, you mind giving him the lowdown?"_

"I'll go find him."

There was another brief pause, then came the sound of soft rustling as she sighed into the phone.

_"I'll...I'll talk to you later."_

She hadn't waited for him to respond. The call had been abruptly ended, and with a sigh of his own, Dean stuffed his phone back into his pocket.


	13. XIII

_**Thirteen** _

_Several hours later..._

It was now sundown. After gathering the needed information about the opera theater and Miriam Lowe's past, the trio of hunters gathered at the motel in preparation for the drive over to the opera theater. They assembled their weapons and other miscellaneous objects before heading into the abandoned building through the old service entrance. Once inside, they wandered around with their flashlights in hands until the oldest of the brothers stopped to give out directions.

"Alright, we're gonna have to split up. Sam, take the first floor."

"Got it."

Dean now turned to face Alaine. "And you're with me. We're gonna go down into the basement—"

A quick frown of disapproval contorted her features. "There's four floors," she stated. "I'll take care of the second, and Sam can join me on the third."

"Sam can handle that. I want you at my side."

"What for? To babysit me?"

The elder Winchester fixed her with a look that meant he was hardly in the mood to debate this with her. However, she cared little if her defiance upset him.

"I don't need you watching over me. I can take care of myself."

"I'm not about to argue with you. Let's go."

Alaine cast an exasperated glance in Sam's direction, her eyes silently asking him to back her up. The man simply gave a shrug of his shoulders before they resumed their progress through the theater's lobby and headed their respective ways. Begrudgingly, Alaine trailed behind Dean as they descended an old, moldy stairwell leading down into the basement.

Upon entering the area, a sudden chill trickled down both their spines. Dean held his shotgun at his side and ventured further into the room. The glow from his flashlight pointed into every corner, revealing soot-covered walls and charred furniture. He skimmed the bright light across the floor as they turned down a narrow corridor. There were rooms on either side of them, the doors either still in tact, hanging off the hinges or missing altogether. Dean ran his light through each and every room, prompting Alaine's own flashlight to shine alongside his.

"I think these were the dressing rooms," she said from a short distance behind him. 

"Yeah, probably."

Further down the hall, he'd stopped at one particular door. Unlike the others, he noticed a gold plaque nailed to the wooden surface that was covered in dust. He brushed the dirt away to reveal the fading remnants of a name.

"Miriam Lowe. This must've been her room."

With a single push, the door eased open. Carefully, they sauntered in. Dean lead the way. He kept the beam of his flashlight far out ahead of him as he swept the expanse of the room with his gaze. 

"Look for anything that might stand out. Whatever object has her tethered to this place should be in here somewh—"

"Dean."

The unease Alaine used to speak his name forced him to come to an abrupt halt. He turned on his heel, their flashlights both shining onto each other.

"What is it?"

"I...I felt something touch my hair."

Within the darkness, a shadow traveled across the room. The sudden movement caused Dean to aim his gun and flashlight into the far left corner where an old armoire rested crookedly up against a closet. He took one step forward when an unseen force launched him back and sent him hurtling through the air.

"Dean!"

With wide eyes, Alaine watched his large body come crashing down onto a desk. The wood cracked and splintered away under his weight before he landed on the floor with a resounding _thud_. Quickly, she jumped into action. She cocked her shotgun and pointed the barrel at the horrid apparition that had manifested itself before her.

The melted flesh of Miriam Lowe hung off her face. The rest of her skin, or whatever was left, was burnt beyond repair, and patches of red hair clung to her scalp. She looked horrifying, however, Alaine couldn't help but pity the tragic demise of this woman. There was something in her eyes, something reminiscent of heartbreak and betrayal that Alaine had been able to recognize.

Before she could ready herself to fire off a rocksalt round, the shotgun had been knocked right out of her hands and thrown into the opposite end of the room. She'd reflexively reached for the handgun stowed away into the waistband of her jeans, but the spirit's movements had been far faster than her own. In just a blink of an eye, Alaine felt herself being lifted off the ground and thrown into something hard. Her back smacked against the armoire, sending a surge of white-hot pain down her spine. She cried out, the breath being pushed from her lungs the moment her head slammed onto the floor.

Everything around her went black. She struggled to lift her face from the wooden boards underneath her to cast a glance at Dean. He'd been fighting to get on his feet, an agonized grunt ripping through him as he rolled onto his stomach. He managed to get up onto all fours before the apparition yanked him up off the ground.

Alaine tried once more for her weapon. She disorientedly pulled out the firearm and pointed it at the spirit. She watched as it grasped Dean around the neck with its icy hands, and waited for the right opening to fire a shot. This time, nothing stopped her from pulling the trigger. Like a bolt of lighting, the consecrated iron bullet zipped through the air, right through the ghost of Miriam Lowe before it penetrated the wall. In an instant, the ghost had vanished, and Dean dropped to the floor once more.

They now had to act fast. Crawling on his hands and knees, Dean scooped up his shotgun. When he finally stood on wobbly legs, he whipped around and doubled over to Alaine. He knelt and curled an arm around her.

"Hey, you okay?"

She grasped onto his shoulders, using him as a crutch as he eased her up onto her feet. "I'm good. We need to find that object before she comes back."

Dean looked her over. He pulled her into his side as her eyes lifted up to meet his. "You got any idea what the hell we're supposed to be looking for?"

She offered a weak nod. "I do."

When the brothers had been busy speaking to the witness at the police station, Alaine had come across some vital information pertaining to the fast ascent of Miriam Lowe's career.

"Do you remember the rumor I told you about this morning?"

"The one about her sleeping with the director?" Dean asked.

"She wasn't just sleeping with him. They were secretly married. No one knew about it."

The expression on the hunter's face shifted into one of surprise.

"That's how she managed to get the role," Alaine went on to explain. "It was because she was his wife."

"So, what, were supposed to look for a wedding ring?"

"Not a ring. A locket. One that he'd gifted her the day of their honeymoon. It was a family heirloom."

Dean's gaze drifted over to the destroyed desk where the drawers and their contents laid scattered across the ground. With Alaine at his side, he ambled over to where his flashlight was and picked it up. It hadn't taken him long to come across the very thing they needed to find. Underneath the beam, the golden locket glinted from amongst the pile of rubble.

Alaine detached herself from Dean. She reached for his shotgun as he pulled out a small bottle of lighter fluid from the inner pocket of his jacket and a book of matches. He hastily cracked open a cartridge of rocksalt used to load his weapon and spilled it over the locket along with the contents of the bottle. He then struck a match, and just like that, the burning flame consuming the remnants of Miriam Lowe's past put her spirit to rest.

*      *      *

Back at the motel, Dean had just finished taking a shower when a knock sounded off at the bathroom door.

"Gimme a minute!"

He quickly slipped into a clean change of clothes before answering. At the other side of the door was his brother, the keys to the Impala clutched into one of his hands.

"I'm gonna go out on a food run. You want anything."

Dean ran a towel over his head as he brushed past him into the room. "Nah, I'm good."

"Alright. I'll be back in a bit." Sam headed towards the door. He stopped to scoop up his jacket from the coat rack and threw it on. "You should go check on Alaine, make sure she's okay."

Settling down at the edge of his bed, the elder Winchester cast his younger brother a questioning look. "Why?"

"Well, for starters, you two have a lot to talk about. Seriously, man, all that tension you guys got going on is killing me. Just tell her how you feel already."

"How I feel?" Dean expelled a humorless scoff, prompting Sam to shoot him a look of disapproval.

"Listen, I know there's still something there between the two of you. Whatever unresolved feelings you have, you need to tell her. She has a right to know what happened after she left."

"I'm sure she knows."

"Really?"

A scowl formed on Dean's face. "How the hell wouldn't she? Come on, Sam. She's not stupid."

"Okay, regardless if she _does_ know, you still need to talk about it if you hope to move any further. You and I both know she obviously still feels something for you."

"I doubt that," said the elder brother in a somber voice.

"Honestly, there's only one way for you to know for sure, Dean. Talk to her."

With that, Sam slipped out of the motel room, leaving his last words circling in his brother's awareness until they drove him close to the point of insanity. In Sam's absence, Dean found himself weighed down by his thoughts. How foolish he'd been to think his feelings for Alaine wouldn't have been altered by the many years of separation they endured. It'd been long ago, but he could recall with absolute clarity the emotions he'd harbored towards her. He had been nothing but a young, inexperienced boy, but had loved her nonetheless. As challenging and as tough as she'd been, Dean remembered loving her, flaws and all.

Now it was different. He could feel it deep inside of him, that suffocating intensity surging through every nerve ending. He had once loved Alaine with whatever understanding he'd held on the subject at the age of sixteen. Back then he hadn't understood the need he felt to always be around her, however, it had driven him to give up one of the most important things of all: his very innocence.

He'd given himself to her without a second thought, and put every ounce of his heart into that special moment only to have it ripped out of him the instant she disappeared from his life. To say he'd been devastated would be the least. For the years that followed, the memory of that night lived on to torment him. The pain had been a constant reminder, and for a long time, Dean had done nothing to forget about it.

And as he sat here now, the same exact pain brought forth from the depths of his subconscious, Dean couldn't help but love her more than he'd resented her. If such a thing was possible, he was sure he even loved her more than he wanted her. The mere realization of this had been strong enough to force him up onto his feet.

It stirred something within him, a desperate need that urged him toward the door where he'd deposited his boots. With haste, he slipped them on and left the motel room in search of her. Dean now strode through the chill night wearing only the t-shirt and jeans he'd thrown on after his shower. Luckily, her room was within walking distance and before he knew it, he was standing at the door, his knuckles rasping urgently against the wood.

Inside, Alaine had been busy icing the bruise on her back. She was standing before the bathroom mirror, inspecting the purple welt under her left shoulder blade she hadn't noticed until now. She gingerly applied the ice, wincing and groaning in pain. After a minute of standing uncomfortably with her arm thrown over her head, she deposited the small pack of ice into the sink. It was then that she heard the sudden knocking at her door and stepped out of the bathroom to inspect.

She barefootedly padded across the room. Already anticipating to find one of the brothers outside her door, Alaine moved to open it, and had been shocked by the sight of a disheveled-looking Dean. She met his stare, the intensity she saw in his green gaze rocking her back on her heels.

Without a word, he slipped past her and walked right inside. In a hurry, she shut and locked the door before turning around to face the troubled man now standing at the foot of her bed.

"Dean, what the hell? Is something wrong?"

"I need to talk to you."

Alaine cast him a confused look. "Now? I was just getting ready to go to bed. Can't this wait 'til tomorrow?"

Something inside of him burned with desperation. The compelling urge to be near her drew him closer. He stopped just as his towering frame loomed over her.

"It can't. I wouldn't be here if it weren't important. Please, I really need to talk to you."

Alaine watched as his pleading gaze flickered across her face. She took him in for a moment, noting the dampness of his hair and how the short strands lay in a disarray at the top of his head. He smelled fresh, the aquatic scent of his body wash still prominent on his skin. It was almost dizzying having him so close. She yearned to reach out for him, to soothe away with her touch whatever ailed him. Instead, she kept still, her head tilted back as she peered up into his face. His expression alone had been enough to stir up a feeling of worry inside her.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?"

Dean clenched and unclenched his jaw. "No, I'm not okay. There's something I need to tell you."

Alaine conceded and offered him a small nod. "Okay. I'm listening."

There was a brief moment of silence as the hunter gathered the courage to speak. As Alaine waited, she gently slipped her fingers through his and gave his hand a comforting squeeze. Reflexively, she saw his shoulders relax a fraction as some of the tension lifted. In return, Dean held on tight to her hand.

"Do you remember that night inside the Impala?"

A tiny smile played on her lips as the memory of that significant moment surfaced inside her mind. "How could I ever forget it?"

"You were my first."

"And you were mine."

Dean felt his chest contract as he peered into her amber gaze. He looked away briefly. "We...were just a couple of kids, but what we did, it meant a lot to me. Hell, it meant everything."

"I know. I felt the exact same way."

A small scoff slipped past his lips. "Yeah, then I guess you understand what you leaving ended up doin' to me."

"Dean," Alaine sighed. Her features softened. "I'm...I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me." Meeting her gaze, he saw the look of confusion that knit her thin brows as her eyes flickered across his face.

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice now small.

In turn, Dean held her stare with an intensity that displayed the exact words he planned on speaking next.

"What you did...it broke me, Alaine."

Pain splintered through her chest. It wound itself around her heart, forcing her to look away from the expression of betrayal shadowing over his face. She felt her stomach churn, and bowed her head.

"I'm sorry," she said once more, her apology laden with sincere regret.

"You wanna know how I found out you were gone?"

The question had been one of rhetorical nature, yet Alaine couldn't stop herself from nodding. There was another pause before she heard the rumble of Dean's voice again. This time, there were traces of sadness in the words he spoke.

"I got up that morning to go lookin' for you. I planned on taking you out back to our spot underneath that giant oak tree in the woods. I spent the whole night before thinkin' about how I was gonna ask you to be my girlfriend. It was stupid, but I wanted to be with you."

"And it wouldn't have worked," she murmured. "Our dads...they were hunters always on the road. We would've never saw each other."

The man frowned. "You think that mattered to me when I would've given just about _anything_ to be with you?"

Remorse tightened her chest and her throat started to swell with emotion. She bit back the sting of tears threatening to fall.

"Look at me."

"I can't," she choked.

Lifting his free hand, Dean held her chin between his index and forefinger, coaxing her with a gentle nudge. "Look at me, Alaine."

The ache in her heart deepened as she shook her head in refusal. "No."

"I need you to look at me," he urged softly. "Please."

The fingers tightly intertwined with hers squeezed hard. Hesitantly, Alaine lifted her gaze from the floor. It trailed up the length of his body before settling onto his face. She surveyed the beauty of his rugged features and looked into his eyes. It was then that her lip began to tremble, and the first tears rolled down her cheeks in thick, hot streams.

"After you left, I ran away. I wasn't gone long, but I used my time away from my dad wisely. I got in touch with some of his contacts without him knowing, asked if they could lend me a hand. There was a guy, Pastor Jim, he gave me shelter for a while before I was ready to hit the road again."

"Why?" she dared to ask him. "Why did you leave?"

Dean closed his eyes as a wave of emotions came over him. When he opened them moments later, his expression faltered and Alaine's breath hitched as his broken gaze pierced through hers.

"I left to go after you."


	14. XIV

**_Fourteen_ **

Everything inside Alaine went still. The weight of the silence that followed was crushing. It sapped the strength from her limbs, and as she stood under the deep scrutiny of Dean's eyes, she found herself bereft of speech. His revelation had shaken her to the very core. A somber expression then came over his face as he slipped his hand from hers. The sudden emptiness she felt at the absence of his touch dug into her heart until it ached. She watched him draw away from her, and longed to pull him into her arms. She almost found herself reaching out for him, but stopped for the fear of being pushed away. Instead, her hands remained in their place, although yearning to seek after the warmth of his very being.

Dean had been carefully gauging her reaction. He waited for a trace of anything that revealed she'd already known of what he'd done, but her delicate features displayed not the slightest bit of awareness. It was clear to him now that she'd held no knowledge of it. However, the question of how he should proceed quickly arose in his mind. He needed to tread with caution if he wanted the outcome of this conversation to be the one he hoped for.

"So, I take it you didn't know?"

Finding her voice, Alaine mumbled a weak, "No."

Dean nodded then bowed his head. "I...I tried to find you. I ended up lookin' for months before my dad caught up with me and forced me to stop. It wasn't for long though. After I turned nineteen, I sorta took off again. At that point, I wasn't sure what drove me to keep lookin'. My dad said I was obsessed, but I knew...I knew it was something more than that."

A sad smile nestled into the corners of his mouth. He swallowed, slowly raising his gaze. Tears brimmed her golden eyes. He peered into them, the sorrow they held almost too painful to look at.

"Dean," her lips quivered. "I...I'm so sorry. I...I didn't—"

"Stop. You don't have to keep apologizing to me."

"But I do. I should've gone to you. I...I could've found a way to convince my dad not to go—"

The hunter shook his head. "You wouldn't have changed his mind."

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do. Your dad was a hunter, Alaine. An ex-Marine on top of that, too. Him and my dad, they were one in the same. Trust me, whatever you think you could've done, it wouldn't have worked."

"But what if it had?" she asked, her words cracking softly around the edges. "What if I'd stayed?"

"Then it would've been me leavin' instead of the other way around."

A look of hopelessness flooded her eyes. His chest hammered at the vulnerability he saw staring back at him. It crept its way deep into his bones, weakening him from the inside out. His heart now ached for her, for her touch, and the warmth of her soft lips. Everything within him throbbed with absolute longing. It made him want to hug her fiercely to him and never let go.

"I've spent all these years regretting not having gone to you before I left. I..." Alaine stopped, her gaze falling. "I hated myself so much for it. I still do."

Dean stepped forward. Gently, he took her face into his hands and guided her eyes back up to his. With the pad of his thumbs, he dried the moisture from her cheeks as a small frown formed onto his features.

"Don't." The realization of his next words dawned on him, evoking a sigh of acceptance from his lungs. "There's nothing you could've done. There's nothing either one of us could've done."

A sad smile settled onto her lips. "And that's what hurts the most."

"Well, don't let it. We're here now, right? It's taken us a while to get to this point, but what matters is that we're finally here."

The hunter lowered his head until their faces were a hare's breadth away from one another. His gaze then flickered down to her parted lips as he cradled her jaw in his calloused palms.

"Tell me you feel it. Tell me I'm not crazy for thinking there's somethin' here."

Alaine's heart lurched inside of her chest. His breath fanned over her mouth, its warmth seeping into her senses and awakening a deep need inside her.

"Dean..."

"Tell me," he repeated in a low growl as his eyes met hers once more. She felt him draw closer until the hardness of his six foot body brushed up against her. "Tell me you still want me, Alaine. I need to hear you say it."

Before her subconscious could attempt to intervene, the words came tumbling out of her mouth in the form of a breathy plea.

"I want you," she said, her hands finally reaching out for him. One settled onto his cheek, and the other grabbed at his chest, the hard muscle tensing under her palm. "I want you so much it hurts."

That was all Dean needed to let go. In one swoop, he'd claimed her lips, and as the flames of desire licked a trail of scorching heat down his spine, he let go of her face to gather her in his arms. He slid his tongue against hers and back again, coaxing her body into surrender. His hands glided down her back, kneading and caressing their way to the flesh of her voluptuous ass hidden underneath her cotton shorts. He gripped her hard, drawing a small whimper from behind her lips that he eagerly swallowed up before guiding her over to the bed.

Slowly, and with her hands stroking through his damp hair, Alaine lowered herself down onto the mattress. She dragged him over her body as he toed off his heavy boots. The coolness of the linen sheets beneath her in contrast with the heat radiating from Dean made her shudder. She felt him nestle between her legs, the denim of his worn out jeans grazing against the inside of her thighs. Sensation rocketed through her veins and pooled heavily in her belly. She moaned against his lips as their kiss deepened, their tongues delving into one another's mouth.

Dean growled low and deep. His hands were all over her, touching, pulling, grabbing. He'd slipped his fingers past the hem of her white camisole and stroked at her velvet skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. The pulsing of his desire intensified. It filled every part of him until he felt on the verge of bursting with need for her. Groaning, he rocked his hips into her.

"Dean," she mewled, her hands leaving his hair to clamp onto his shoulders. She gasped as his palm skidded up her torso and enclosed around her right breast.

Her back lifted off the bed. Slowly, he pulled his lips away from hers. He then began to trail open mouthed kisses along her jaw and down her neck until he reached her clavicle. There, he swirled his tongue in deep circles across her flushed skin as he worked on ridding her of her shorts.

Alaine's own hands now moved to his clothes. Heart racing, she grabbed at the hem of his tee and pulled it up his torso. As he slipped her bottoms down her legs, she'd managed to get the intrusive article of clothing past his stomach until he pulled back and helped her get his shirt off the rest of the way.

A shirtless Dean Winchester was a sight to behold. Soft skin stretched taut over firm muscles that Alaine desperately wanted to feel under her fingers. She watched his biceps flex as he reached for her camisole, and gently splayed a palm over his heart, right below where his anti-possession tattoo rested. Before he could get her out of her shirt, she stilled his movements by grabbing hold of one of his wrists.

"Dean, wait."

The hunter stopped, a look of worry flashing across his face. "What is it?"

"There's...there's, um..."

Awareness suddenly came over him. "Crap...I don't have a condom."

A small blush darkened the flush in her reddened cheeks. She surveyed Dean as he sent an aimless glance around the motel room.

"I hate that I'm even asking you this, but you wouldn't happen to have one on you?"

"No, I don't...I don't use them."

Dean's eyes widened. He pulled his hand out of her shirt, angling back to peer down at her. "What?"

"Wait, that's...dammit, that's not what I meant."

"Care to clarify then?"

Mortification swept over her. She nervously flickered her gaze away from his face and centered it onto his tattoo. She felt him shift over her as his palms pressed flat to the mattress.

"If I tell you, you're gonna have to promise not laugh."

"What would I do that for? Is it one of those allergies to latex?"

Alaine shook her head softly. "No, that's not it."

"Okay, then what is it?"

She immediately detected the apprehension in his voice. In preparation of what she was about to tell him, Alaine dragged in a deep breath to settle her nerves before she spoke again a second later.

"I don't use condoms because I don't have sex," she murmured so quietly she was afraid he wouldn't hear. When he didn't say anything after in return, Alaine dared herself to steal a glance at his face. She looked up slowly. Her gaze settled onto his rugged features, and took quick notice of the subtle furrowing of his brows as he regarded her in question.

"You don't have sex?" he asked, almost skeptic.

She froze under his stare. "No, not since..." her voice trailed off briefly as the memory of that nice surfaced. Her mouth then parted and she let escape a small, quivering sigh that made her shudder.

"Not since when?"

There was a sudden intensity to his voice that gripped her tight and sent a wave of desire flooding over her. She saw the understanding in the way his green eyes blazed, and gathered he knew exactly what she was referring to.

"Not since when, Alaine?" the hunter pressed with urgency, leaning closer.

She was now pinned underneath this man's commanding aura without any hope of being freed. The madness of his desire for her was evident between her legs as his arousal pressed hard to her pelvis. Her bosom rose and fell in a desperate attempt to draw in air.

"Not since...we took each other's virginities that night," she revealed, her eyes never leaving his. "I've never slept with anyone after that because...because they just weren't you."

Something inside of Dean shifted in that moment. He felt it happen. It swept through his entire being and seized him in its embrace. A powerful need far beyond understanding gripped him as heat flared in his chest. He fastened his gaze to her mouth, then down to the hardened peaks protruding through the cotton of her camisole. The meaning behind her revelation rocked him then, and stamped its unbreakable seal over his heart.

_This perfect woman, touched only by the hands of one man. His hands. His and his alone..._

He made a sound, a low, animalistic growl before Alaine found herself being devoured by him, mind, body and soul. He'd kissed her so abruptly, so profoundly that she'd felt herself being drawn into him. Drawn into his heat, into his scorching passion. It was so overwhelming that she grasped desperately at his body in efforts of steadying herself.

His hips rocked into hers as his hands slid under her shirt once more and found her breast. When the heat of his palm stroked her sensitive skin, she gasped and arched into his touch. Her small, broken whimpers were perceived as pleas for more, and so he swiftly removed her shirt and took her breast into his mouth where he sucked hard and with fervor.

"Dean!"

Alaine's body bucked off the bed. He rocked into her again, and she clawed at his back, a moan ripping through her. His teeth grazed her nipple, sending a sharp current of pleasure spiking down to the spot that throbbed for him most. Her entire being was lit ablaze with desire. She thrashed underneath him as liquid heat moistened her panties.

She soon lost herself in the delicate caress of his tongue. Slowly, it traveled away from her breast and over to the valley in her chest where it then licked its way down to her navel. The stubble framing his hard jaw bristled against her, leaving a raw feeling behind on her skin. As he moved his way down her body and lowered himself between her legs, his palms splayed over her thighs. He nudged them apart, using his teeth to pull at the lace of her underwear. When his warm breath ghosted over her damp folds, Alaine thought she'd climax right then and there.

"Breathe, baby. I got you."

A wild desperation rocketed through her veins. She flickered her eyes down to find Dean's gazing at her with the same intensity that filled her being. To see him down there, it was so erotic that she couldn't contain the mewl of excitement that fell from her lips as he pressed a kiss to her clothed sex.

"Off," came the command in the form of a restless breath. "Take them off."

Dean held her gaze as his fingers crept over to her hips. "You sure?"

Alaine noted the sly smirk playing on his lips. She gave him a vehement nod. "Yes, I'm sure. Please. I can't take this any—"

The loud snap of fabric being torn silenced her as the hunter ripped away her underwear. She gasped at the violent action, entranced by the effortlessness he'd used to free her of her panties.

"Dean—"

"I'll get you a new pair tomorrow."

The upcurve of his lips was the last thing she saw before his face dipped and his mouth covered her. He gave a gentle suck at first, then laid his tongue flat along her cleft and dragged it down to her opening where it dipped inside to taste of her essence. He gave a deep groan of appreciation, his stare searing her to the core as he drank from her greedily.

Alaine convulsed against the bed and gripped the sheets. He locked an arm around her thigh, pulling her down onto his tongue as it thrust into her slowly. She wasn't sure just how long he'd been down there, but it had been long enough to deliver her the first mind blowing orgasm of the night. She'd felt the rapid build-up, and it hadn't taken much for her to come hurtling over the precipice. Just a few long strokes of his tongue over her cleft had done her in. She'd tightened her legs around his head and pulled at his hair as euphoria overtook her body.

A chain of sensations exploded through her. His name left her in a sharp cry, earning a growl of encouragement from Dean as she ground her hips against his face. He'd gently guided her back down from her high with small licks and delicate kisses, and even well after the final tremors of her release died away, the hunger inside her still persisted. She needed more. _Craved_ more.

Pushing back up onto his hands and knees, Dean began the slow crawl over her body. He'd witnessed her climax, had felt it pouring onto his tongue in thick streams. It was a sight he knew would forever be engraved into his memory, as well as the sweet, decadent taste of her juices. When he loomed over her, he dropped a tender kiss to each of her breasts, giving both nipples equal amount of attention. He then moved up to her mouth as her lust-blown eyes stared back at him in mild uncertainty. He merely smiled, and cupped her cheek before his lips descended onto hers.

At first, she tensed. _Was it okay for him to kiss her after...pleasuring her with his mouth?_ She thought to ask him, but the idea had been silenced by the foreign taste coating her palate as his tongue circled hers. It was strange, yet oddly pleasant all the same. The scent of her arousal filled her nostrils as Dean kissed her, and she quickly found that she enjoyed sharing in this intimate act with him. It was also evident to her that Dean was liking every bit of what they were doing. The sounds he made into her mouth traveled throughout her body, it's vibrations rekindling the flame inside her.

"You're so good, baby," he praised as his fingers moved to play with her opening. He rimmed her slit with his middle finger, coating himself in her essence before easing into her warm cavern. "God, you're friggin' tight. I don't think you'll be able to take me like this."

Alaine watched him pull back to gaze down at her. She clenched around his finger, her mouth falling agape as he stroked that delicate wall of nerves inside her. She gasped, drawing another smirk up onto his glistening lips.

"What do you think, princess?"

Her heart fluttered at the tenderness he was displaying toward her. She held back a moan as she attempted to answer, but the sudden amount of pressure Dean applied to _that_ spot forced it right out of her.

"Don't hold back on me. I want to hear you."

Just as Dean added a second finger, Alaine was ready to tap out.

"Please," she whimpered. "I want you."

"Yeah?" Slowly, Dean pulled out of her. "What do you want from me?"

"You. Please, Dean—"

The hunter kept his fingers hovering over her opening as her hips bucked toward him. "You said that already. What exactly is it that you want? My mouth? My hands? You gotta talk to me, Lainey."

Alaine thrashed in frustration. "Dean, please. I can't take it."

"The quicker you tell me what it is, the quicker I'll be able to help you."

There was a wicked look in his smoldering eyes that sent heat flaring down to her sex. It clenched at the absence of his fingers, and she groaned deep in her throat.

"I want...I want your cock," she finally admitted. Though her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, she received a nod of approval followed by the return of his prodding touch.

"Good girl. Now, you gotta tell me where you want it, baby."

"Inside of me," she moaned, her hips rolling into the palm of his hand. "I want it inside of me, Dean."

In response to this, his fingers pumped into her with more vehemence. "Like this?" he asked, his voice heady and so lust-filled that it almost sent her over the edge.

"Yes...just like that. Please, don't stop."

To her surprise, the hunter had done the exact opposite. In a rush, Alaine felt him withdraw, and sent him a confused look as the smirk resting in the corner of his mouth deepened. She then saw his hands move down to the fly of his jeans, and eagerness flooded her body. Her hooded eyes followed his movements closely, anticipating the soft hum of his zipper before she was blessed with the sight of his straining erection.

She gave a small gasp. Although shielded within the skin-tight confines of his boxer-briefs, he looked _much_ bigger than what she remembered. A small sense of unease came over her at the thought of having him inside her.

_Would she really be able to take all of him this time?_

As if sensing what she was thinking, Dean offered a smile of reasurance as his face dipped and he claimed her lips once more. The kiss had been meant to relax her, but it only stoked the burning flames inside of her, making her grow wilder with need. As he moved between her legs again, Alaine's hands latched onto his hips. She pulled him closer and angled her head against the pillow to welcome the tongue he slipped past her lips. Sucking him into her mouth, she hooked her thumbs into both the waistband of his jeans and underwear, and with one shove, pushed them down to the middle of his thighs.

His voice came in a husky growl as his fingers wrapped around one of her wrists.

"Alaine, wait. What about the con—"

"I don't care," she hissed in impatience.

She snapped her hand away from his, reaching for the throbbing length of his arousal. She quickly took him into her palm, stroking languidly. He felt so full and heavy, his size _definitely_ bigger than what she remembered. She chanced a look at him, and quickly realized that the word "big" didn't suit Dean's size at all. The man was huge. She felt her breath hitch as she eyed his erection tentatively.

_Now she was sure she wouldn't be able to take all of that._

Alaine's attention flickered back up to his face. There was a fiery look blazing in his green gaze. It was so raw, so carnal. She gave his length another full stroke and curled her fingers tightly around his swollen crown, dragging out a breathy groan from the depths of his lungs.

He cussed, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "Tighter, baby. Squeeze me tighter."

She complied to his demand and tightened her grasp around him, pumping him faster. Dean managed to get the rest of his clothes off without messing up her momentum. His jeans hit the floor with a soft _thump,_ and Alaine spent a moment staring at the breathtaking beauty of his naked physique just as his own eyes raked over her entire figure.

"You're so beautiful."

As soon as those words had left his lips, he moved back over her, pushing his body between her legs. She could feel his shaft, throbbing and demanding, running along her folds as he slowly rocked against her. He kept his hands just above her head, flattened onto the cool sheets as he riveted her with his gaze.

The steady pressure building in her sex had her grinding against him, moans of unfiltered wanting leaving her in long breaths. There was something about the way he watched her, and how his skin felt pressed up against her that stirred rather _expected_ feelings inside of her heart.

 _You knew this would happen,_ finally broke through the voice of her subconscious. _You knew he'd make you feel this way, and now you're gonna end up getting hurt because you're too damn weak._

For once, she chose to ignore what it had to say. There was no way she could stop something that felt this good. She wanted this. He wanted this. Whatever else was meant to come after, she'd face it head-on, even if it meant possibly getting her heart broken.

"Dean, please. I need to feel you."

_Yes. Just drown out the voice. Don't think about anything other than this moment. Think of him..._

"You think you're ready for me, princess?"

Alaine ran her palms up his arms, stopping when she reached his broad shoulders. She then crept her fingers toward his neck, her nails dragging along his skin as she moved to cup the back of his head.

"Yes. I'm ready."

Dean drew his hips back. He could feel the moist heat from her core beckoning as he gently pressed against her entrance. She tensed in anticipation, and he fastened his gaze to hers before filling her in one full thrust.


	15. XV

**_Fifteen_ **

The pressure of something heavy against her chest jolted Alaine from her sleep. When her eyes snapped open, she was met with the blinding light that streamed through the motel's white curtains. Her room was bathed in sunlight, forcing her to shield her eyes as her vision adjusted to her surroundings. She'd meant to turn onto her side and away from the window, yet there was something weighing her down, keeping her pinned in place. Flickering her gaze, she glanced at her body in mild confusion and froze at the unexpected sight before her.

Firstly, her eyes landed on a head of brown hair. She then began to recall the events of the night before and a warm, heartfelt smile crept onto her lips. Though his face was turned away from her, Alaine admired Dean's perfection nonetheless. It was evident he was still asleep. She could feel his shallow breaths fanning across her skin. Much like a child, his head was nuzzled into her small bosom, one of his arms wrapped around her, cradling her to his body.

She now took notice of the second shocking fact of the morning.

Dean was lying between her legs, completely _naked._ She cast a glance around her. The sheets that once covered the mattress were bunched up around them. Pillows were strewn all over, and hanging off the edge of the footboard were her tattered panties, the poor lace ripped to shreds.

Alaine felt her insides clench at the memory of how aggressive he'd been, though after that, Dean had only shown tenderness. She knew she was probably crazy for thinking this, but the whole night had felt like a repeat of all those years ago. Like as if he was taking her innocence away all over again. She'd experienced things last night that she never imagined were possible. She'd felt...connected, made whole by the union of their bodies. It had been so perfect that as she thought of it now, she couldn't help the pang of sadness that tugged at her heart.

Again, she looked around the bed.

_What if none of this meant anything to him? What if it was just sex and nothing more?_

She brushed her gaze over Dean's body draped across hers. Slowly, and of their own volition, her arms came around his back. They held onto him as her fingertips trailed along the hollow of his spine. Although he was heavy, the weight wasn't overbearing. It was perfect, and felt just right against her. She didn't keep track of just how much time had passed, but sensed it'd been a good while because when Dean began to softly stir, a sudden tingling spread through her numb thighs.

The muscles of his back flexed suddenly under her touch as a muffled groan filled the room. She kept up the delicate caress, coaxing him gently into alertness. She watched him silently, and felt the arm around her tighten its hold before his head turned and his sleep-filled gaze met hers.

She smiled, her hand snaking up his back to card through his ruffled hair. "Good morning."

Dean sucked in a sharp inhale. He blinked, then slowly, a warm smile rose to his lips. "Morning."

"Did you sleep okay?"

"Mmm, better than I have in a long time."

"Really?" she asked, her brows lifting in surprise.

Nuzzling deeper into her chest, Dean pressed a kiss to the top of her breast. The tiny prickle of his facial hair against her felt soothing as his lips dragged across her sensitive skin. She hummed her appreciation to the delicate attention he paid to her left nipple. It stiffened under his touch as he circled it with the tip of his nose.

"Feel nice?"

His eyes had flickered up to peer at her from under his sweeping lashes. She nodded, her fingers pulling at his short hair.

"Good," he murmured before his lips wrapped around the hardened peak and sucked hard.

"Dean!" Alaine gasped. Pleasure shot down to her sex. She arched into his mouth as one of his hands slipped between their bodies and settled over her womanhood. He dragged his palm along her folds, his middle finger stopping at her opening. It slipped in with great ease, forcing a violent shudder to rake over her.

"Damn. You're already wet for me."

Alaine looked down and watched as his lips drew away from her breast. She tugged hard, using his hair as a rein to pull him back.

"Dean, please. I want you."

The hunter smirked. "So early in the morning?"

"You're the one who started," she whined back.

"You're right, I did start. I'm sorry, princess."

Alaine's heart fluttered inside her chest. He lifted his weight off her as he shifted between her legs. The gentle nudge of his awakened arousal against her thigh evoked a moan from inside her, and she clutched at his head, forcing his mouth down to hers. She kissed him with a great sense of urgency, feeling the heat of their attraction sweeping through the room as the air around them grew thick. Desperation quickly swelled inside of her. She felt it swarm through her veins to settle at her sex. She threw her legs around Dean's waist, drawing him closer.

"I need you inside me now," she demanded, her hips lifting off the bed and rocking into him.

Smiling against her lips, the hunter slowly pulled back his hand. He pressed himself flush to her, every inch of his rigid body rubbing against her heated skin. She curled her arms around his neck as he shoved his face into the hollow of her throat. One of his hands settled by her head, his long fingers diving into her hair while the other snaked down to cup her ass. He angled his hips and aligned himself with her opening, groaning as he eased his way into her body.

Dean moved slowly. He took his time coaxing moans and gasps of pleasure from Alaine's mouth. He'd thrust into her, stopping just when his cock couldn't go any deeper, and stirred his hips in a wide circle before slipping out of her and plunging right back in. He kept this tempo up, deliberately driving her into a wild frenzy.

"Dean! Oh, God..."

He felt her walls flutter around him, sucking him deeper into her core. She clawed at his back, her nails digging into the muscles of his shoulder blades as she writhed and bucked against him. He tried his best to hold it together, to drag this out for as long as possible, but her body demanded his release.

"Baby, you feel so friggin' good," he grunted between strokes. He slowed down a bit and lifted his face from her neck to meet her eyes.

Her parted lips widened further as a loud, trembling gasp rushed out of her lungs. By the way she was quivering beneath him, Dean was already anticipating her breaking point. It was all a matter of whether or not he wanted to climax right along with her.

"Dean," she breathed. "Dean, I—I'm so close."

"I know, baby." Drawing his hips back, he slammed forward, altering his rhythm just as the tightly wound coil inside of him snapped. "Fuck," he growled, crushing his lips to hers. "Baby, I'm coming."

A guttural moan ripped through her, catching them both by surprise as her climax hit full force. She clutched his body to hers, her insides squeezing him. She cried out as spasm after spasm rocked her body, and no more than a second later was Dean joining her, her own release catapulting him into the throes of a violent orgasm.

His whole body seized, every nerve, every muscle tightening and contracting as a blinding light flashed in his line of vision. He shuddered and gasped, his eyes wrenching shut. He let this new kind of orgasm rip through him until he was left breathless and bereft of any strength. When he finally collapsed onto Alaine, his trembling arms gathered her in its embrace and pulled her against him.

After a long while of lying in comfortable silence with her fingers softly plowing through his hair, Dean carefully slipped out of her and moved to lie on his side. He kept her cradled to his chest, enjoying the comfort of her scent and body heat. It wasn't until well after the humming in his blood dissipated that Dean's mind jerked back to awareness.

And suddenly, out of nowhere—out of a void deep within his being—he was filled with a rush of realization. His emotions blossomed, an urgency amounting to passion gripping his heart as she lay silently in his arms. He understood in that moment that whatever this was, whatever connection it was they shared, he wanted it. Wanted it more than anything in his entire life. For the first time, everything around him finally felt right. After so many years of feeling lost, of not knowing where he belonged, Dean found his place, and it was here, with Alaine right at his side.

Acceptance settled in him. As he let out the breath of a small sigh, Alaine stirred in his hold. She pulled her face away from his chest, lifting her bright gaze to his. She noticed the soft smile playing on his lips, and cast him a curious look.

"What are you smiling about?"

At the sound of her delicate voice, Dean's eyes flickered down. There was a blush coloring her cheeks that was warm to the touch as he cupped her face into his palm. He brushed her jaw with the pad of his thumb, staring deeply into her eyes. He could sense the wonder and praise within them as their radiance riveted him.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"Well, that _is_ why I'm asking. What's got you in such a good mood?"

"You."

"Me?" Alaine's brow lifted. "How's that?"

Dean paused, contemplating if he should share his thoughts with her. Compelled by the beauty of her amber gaze, the hunter found himself talking before he could process the words leaving his mouth.

"You don't how long I've waited to hold you in my arms like this."

Alaine was taken aback. She looked at him in shock, surveying the softening of his smile as he regarded her with a degree of tenderness. "Dean..."

"I can see the uncertainty in your face. You don't believe me?"

"I want to."

"What's stopping you then?"

Unable to bare the intensity in the way his eyes bore into hers, she timidly lowered her gaze. She stared at the soft, muscled expanse of his chest, tracing the outline of his tattoo with the nail of her index finger. The arm coiled around her tightened, pulling her deeper into him so that their bodies were flush to one another. It all felt so heavenly, and Alaine couldn't help the small ache in her heart at the thought of his words being a lie.

"I...I don't know," she murmured. "Maybe it has to do with the stuff I've heard about you."

She felt his diaphragm expand with the force of a heavy sigh. His breath fanned softly over her face as his fingers rubbed soothing circles at the small of her back.

"So, in other words, you're saying you don't trust me."

Alaine's head snapped up. "No. Dean, that's not what-"

"It's okay," he smiled, his voice soft and reassuring. The hand at her cheek moved into her hair, his nails scratching gently at her skull. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't. I've been around a lot."

"Yeah, but it's not right for me to judge you based off of the things you've done."

"Does it bother you?"

"A little."

The hunter fixed her a pointed look.

"Okay, it bothers me a lot."

"Why?" he asked.

"Do I really have to tell you?"

"No, but I'd appreciate it if you were honest with me."

Alaine nodded, sighing in resignation. "I know...I know I shouldn't let it bother me, you sleeping around with other women. Before, I never really gave it much thought, but now things are different and I can't help the way it makes me feel."

"And how does it make you feel?"

"Jealous. Like I'm not good enough."

There was a shift inside of Dean. Alaine sensed it as the look in his eyes hardened. She felt his hands stiffen against her, and for a fleeting moment she thought she'd pissed him off.

"I'm sorry. I've said too much—"

"Don't do that."

"Do what?" she asked, apprehension evident in her face.

"Think that you're not good enough."

Wedging a leg between her thighs, Dean shifted so that he was partially lying over her. He let his fingers glide down the column of her throat, more out of admiration than anything else. His gaze wander over the span of her body-her neck, her mouth, her breasts. It traveled lower, sweeping over her nakedness, then deliberately crept back up to her face where it finally settled.

"But I'm not," she lamented. A sad smile pulled at her lips. "Look at me, Dean. Before last night, I hadn't slept with anyone in over nineteen years. I'm pathetic."

"If anyone's pathetic or not good enough, it's me."

"Dean—"

"No, listen to me. I know I can't take back the stuff I've done, and I sure as hell can't make you forget about it. All I ask is that you give me the benefit of the doubt when I tell you none of that means a damn thing to me anymore."

"So, what, you happen to change your mind overnight?"

A stern look crossed his features then, the expression alone wiping away all shred of doubt inside Alaine.

"My mind was changed the moment you walked back into my life."

Alaine's heart swelled with emotion. Hesitantly, her palms flattened onto his bare chest, squeezing softly as her throat knotted. "What does that mean?"

"It means...it means I want you."

"Want me how, Dean?" she asked, her voice suddenly unsteady. "I need to know what you mean."

The hunter's eyes flickered across her face. "I want _you._ All of you."

Those words and the profound look he gave her before his mouth slanted over hers stirred something deep in her soul. Soft lips caressed hers, taking her captive in the most heartfelt kiss they'd ever shared. His tongue, featherlight, dipped inside with exquisite slowness, and Alaine wrapped her limbs around him, pulling him closer.

The kiss hadn't lasted long. After a minute, Dean drew back, looking as if there was something weighing on his mind. Tenderly, Alaine cupped the side of his face.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I was just thinking."

"About what?" she pressed, her thumb stroking his cheekbone.

"About last night, and this morning." A small frown settled over his thin brows. "We didn't use a condom."

Alaine smiled in understanding. "I know. I was there."

"Aren't you worried about...you know—"

"Getting pregnant?"

Dean's features blanched. "Uh, yeah."

"I guess I should be, but luckily, I'm on birth control. Have been for some years."

"Birth control? But I thought you said—"

"It's for menstruation purposes," she clarified. "It helps keep my progesterone levels up."

"Sure, whatever that means."

"Don't worry, we're in the clear."

The hunter looked at her steadily, then nodded. "I trust you, you know? It's why...it's why I was okay with not using one. I've never done that before. With anyone."

"Really?"

"Don't look so surprised. I can be dumb sometimes, but I'm not stupid."

"Well, now that you brought up the subject of trust, I want you to know that I do trust you, Dean. You've said a lot of things between last night and now, and I've taken them all into thought."

Dean sensed there was something else by the way her expression shifted. "I can tell there's a 'but' in there somewhere."

"There is."

"Alright, let's hear it."

"I'm sure you're not used to being tied down to one woman. I feel like I'm asking for a lot, but if you want me, I can't be sharing you with anyone else. Do you understand that?"

"You won't," he assured, his voice firm. "You have my word."

"Good."

From the far end of the room, the sound of knocking erupted. Dean and Alaine exchanged a quick look of confusion before their attention shifted over to the clock sitting on the bedside table. It was a quarter past eleven. They somehow ended up sleeping in.

"Crap," Dean muttered. "That must be Sam."

As a confirmation of this, the younger Winchester's voice could be heard calling out to Alaine from the other side of the door. Gently nudging Dean off of her, she sat up right in bed and gathered the sheets around herself.

"Yeah, I'm awake," she answered back to his question as the elder brother clambered off the mattress. She cast him a quick glance, watching him pad around the room and silently marveling in the beauty of his naked body.

"Oh, good," came Sam's voice from outside. "Have you seen Dean by any chance? He wasn't in our room last night, and he left his phone behind."

"Uh, he's...Dean's..." Alaine trailed off, distracted by the sight of him pulling his clothes back on. He was facing her, boxer briefs in hand. He put his legs through them one at a time, slowly dragging the material up the length of his muscular thighs. She gave him one last longing look—one he was too busy to notice—before his manhood was tucked away from her hungry eyes. He then slipped into his jeans, and as he pulled his now wrinkled t-shirt over his head, his eyes briefly met hers.

Plopping down at the edge of the bed, Dean moved to pull on his boots, but not before answering to his brother.

"Mornin', Sammy," he called out.

"Dean?" There was a short pause, followed by the sound of recognition in his voice. "Oh, um...sorry to bother you guys. Cas just called. We need to head back to the bunker."

Dean stopped in the middle of tying his laces. "What? Now? It's not even noon yet."

"He said it was important."

"The hell does he want?"

"Don't know," said Sam. "He didn't say."

"Great," sighed the elder brother in exasperation. Behind him, the bed shifted with the weight of Alaine's body slipping off the mattress. He glanced over at her as she gracefully dragged the sheets along the floor with her as she sauntered across the room.

"I'll, uh...I'll give you guys some time to get ready," called the younger brother before moving away from the door.

At the sound of Sam's retreating footsteps, Dean rose from the bed. He quickly finger combed his ruffled hair, then turned toward Alaine. Crossing the small distance, he approached from the side, his hand splaying over her hip as she rummaged through her duffel bag.

"Hey, I wanted to say something before I go."

Alaine clutched her fresh change of clothes to her chest, turning around to face Dean. "Sure. What is it?"

"I want you to know that I meant it. Everything I said. I'm not used to opening up about things, but I'm willing to try for you, for _us._ All I ask is for some time to get adjusted to all this. It won't take me long; I just want to make sure I do this right."

She looked upon him in understanding, a small smile nestling into the corners of her mouth. She stepped forward and rose onto her tiptoes to plant a gentle kiss over his lips.

"Okay. I'll wait."

Dean smirked, the hand at her waist sliding down to her ass. "In the meantime, you think you can give me another one of those?"

"I would, but you and I both know what'll happen."

"What if I want it to happen?" he asked, pressing her into his body—or more specifically, the hardness of his awaking arousal.

"Dean, no. I have to shower. You have to shower—"

"Who says we can't do it together? It'll cut us both some time. What do you say, baby?"

A flare of heat surged through her veins. She shuddered. "You're incorrigible."

"I'll take that as a yes. Go ahead and get in, I'll go grab a change of clothes."

"Fine, but don't keep me waiting." Reaching for him, Alaine stroked her palm along the front of his jeans. She pressed another kiss to his mouth, lingering for just a moment as she squeezed him hard.

Dean's breath hitched in his throat. "Dammit, baby—"

"Hurry up," she commanded against his lips. "I'm getting wetter by the second."

"Yes, ma'am."

With a quick slap to her ass, Dean peeled himself away, making a beeline for the motel room door and slipping outside.


	16. XVI

**_Sixteen_ **

When Sam, Dean and Alaine arrived at the bunker, it was a little over midnight. They gathered their things out of the car and made their way to their respective rooms to turn in for the night. After having driven for fourteen long hours, the elder Winchester was just about ready to pass out from exhaustion. Although his body hadn't been in agreement, Dean forced himself into the shower to freshen up before heading to bed. Upon returning to his room, he'd been surprised to find Alaine inside, perched onto the dead of the mattress, patiently waiting for his return. Lazily, he dropped his dirty clothes into the small hamper after shutting the door, and rounded the side of the bed. 

"Hey, you okay?" 

Alaine followed him with her gaze as he padded through the room. She cast him a soft smile, her hands reaching out to grab him by the waist. She stroked his sides and nodded her head, beckoning the hunter closer. 

"I'm fine. I just wanted to say goodnight to you before going to bed."

Dean brushed her hair away from her face and looked into her eyes. He took her cheek into his palm, smiling longingly and watching as she nuzzled into his touch.

"Missed me already, baby?" 

"Yes, as a matter of fact."

"Yeah? Why don't you stay and keep me some company then?" 

Alaine's smile broadened at the thought. "I think I'd like that," she murmured, her arms encircling his torso, drawing him toward her.

The hunter coaxed her into bed with him, his calloused hands igniting a relentless fire inside her as they worked on ridding her of her clothes. His body loomed over hers, and before she could catch her breath, Dean was entering her with a deep plunge that evoked a cry from her lips. 

It wasn't until the early morning hours that fatigue finally overtook them, and even then, Dean had roused her from her sleep, his body aching still from its relentless need for her. It rushed through his veins like a torrential flood, keeping him coming back for more. When he eventually settled beside her and gathered her in his arms, he'd fallen asleep right away, but his rest had been disrupted by a series of knocks that sounded off at the door at around ten a.m.

He jerked awake, disoriented and sluggish. It took him a bit longer than normal to pull on his clothes as he stumbled through the room in search for the discarded articles of clothing lying around the floor. After a minute or two, he then dragged himself over to the door and cracked it open to be instantly met with the blinding glare of light coming from the hallway. 

"What do you want?" he ground out. He squinted, his nose scrunching up as the visage of his brother came into focus. 

"It's ten o'clock."

"And?"

"Shouldn't you be out of bed by now?" 

"I had a long night."

Sam smiled at his brother in awareness. "Really? So, you took my advice after all then. Good for you."

"Thanks. Are we done here?" 

"Not really. Cas just got in, says he needs to talk to us now. And before you ask, no it can't wait."

Dean bowed his head, a disgruntled groan leaving his mouth.

"I'll go let him know you're up," said Sam before walking away. 

"Yeah, whatever."

Shutting the door, Dean stalked through the room toward his dresser to pull out a fresh pair of jeans. He dressed himself quickly, taking extra time to brush his teeth and style his hair before moving over to the bed where Alaine peacefully slept. He carefully dropped a kiss to her forehead, and pulled the sheets up over her naked body. With a last longing look, the hunter quietly slipped out of the room, his long legs carrying him through the empty corridors until he arrived at the threshold of the kitchen where a plate of bacon an eggs waited for him on the table. He scooped it up, serving himself a mug of hot coffee to take with him into the library. 

Upon walking into the room, his gaze fastened onto the trench coat-wearing angel sitting at one of the tables. A distressed expression shadowed his face, worry as well as exhaustion embedded into the fine wrinkles. His blue eyes flickered away from Sam to cast a glance in Dean's direction, their hardness softening out at the sight of his good friend.

"Dean," Castiel called in his usual, monotonous greeting. 

"There better be a good reason why you had us haul ass from Detroit."

The angel watched as the hunter perched himself at the edge of the oak table in front of him. Sam, who was standing towards Castiel's left, turned towards his brother, questioningly. 

"Where's Alaine?" 

"Sleeping," Dean answered, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth. 

Castiel glanced between the humans. "Alaine?"

"She's a friend of ours," said Sam, a smile forming on his lips. "And also Dean's girlfriend."

An expression of mild surprised came over the angel's face. He glanced over at Dean, noticing the tensing of his jaw as he snapped his gaze up from his plate. 

"Girlfriend?" Castiel asked, his tone curious. "So, you've found someone. Is she a hunter?"

Dean cleared his throat, his attention shifting over to the angel. "Yeah, she, uh—she is."

"And are you happy with her?" 

The hunter paused a moment to look at his friend. The answer to that question was obvious. The woman was everything he could've ever hoped for. She was everything he never knew he needed. She was his sanity, his joy, his comfort. Alaine was his home. 

"Yeah, Cas." A soft grin twitched at the corner of his mouth. "I'm real happy."

Castiel nodded, smiling in return. "Good."

From across the library, the sound of movement caught Dean's attention, prompting him to glance over at the operations room. As a reflex, the hunter felt a slight flutter in his chest as his breath caught in his throat. Alaine was slowly making her way into the library, her gaze sweeping over the three men gathered together. When it settled over Dean, her eyes softened and she smiled at him. 

"Hey."

Both Sam and Castiel turned their heads toward the direction of her voice. The younger Winchester sent her a friendly wave while the angel watched her in curiosity. As she drew near, her attention moved onto him, her eyes studying him closely. 

"You must be Cas," she said, stopping right beside his chair. She peered down at him, her long hair framing her face. "I'm Alaine."

Castiel nodded in acknowledgement at the woman. "Yes, I know. You're Dean's girlfriend."

Alaine felt her cheeks instantly warm. She shuffled awkwardly under his scrutinizing gaze, a tiny smile playing on her lips as Sam gave a chuckle behind her. She looked away from the angel and glanced briefly at Dean, finding him staring back at her with bright green eyes. 

"I, uh, guess you can say that," she answered back, her smile deepening. 

"Dean's a good man, though he struggles to see that for himself. Take care of him, Alaine."

"Alright, Cas. Now's not the time for the big brother talk," the elder Winchester cut in. Setting his plate of food down, Dean fixed him with a serious look. "You got us here, so start talkin'."

With a small sigh, the angel leaned back in his chair. "As I'm sure all of you know, Metatron is set on becoming God. He plans to overtake heaven and earth by breaking Lucifer out of the cage. For the past few weeks, I've been searching for the spear of Triam. I was able to pinpoint traces of its energy before it vanished."

"Vanished?" echoed Sam. 

"I think it must’ve sensed me. It's possible that the artifact has the power to cloak itself from anything it deems to be an enemy."

"Wait," Dean interrupted, his brow furrowing in question. "This thing can sense angels?"  

Castiel nodded. "I'm assuming roughly anything that isn't of its region of existence, which complicates things. Being that I'm an angel of the Lord, it'll be close to impossible for me to find it."

Dean let out a scoff. "Great. Now what?" 

"I wouldn't worry too much. Metatron will face the same difficulties in his search for the spear, unless he figures out what he'll need in order to locate it."

"And what's that?" Alaine asked. 

"Anyone who isn't blocked out by the spear's hiding mechanism. To be more clear, a Greek god or goddess."

"Well, that's fan-friggin'-tastic. To find the damn thing we have to go on some wild goose chase."

"I'm sure the archives has something on summoning and trapping a Greek god," spoke the younger Winchester. 

"We've been through half of those files, Sam. You tell me if we've ever come close to finding something like that."

"No, but it wouldn't hurt to look a little deeper."

"And what if we don't find one?" Dean asked. "Then what?"

"We try looking someplace else."

*     *     *

The bunker’s library looked as if a tornado swept through it. Everything was in a complete disarray. Stacks of books, folders and papers laid strewn all over the tables and floor as the three hunters combed through every bit of lore they could find on Greek gods. After Castiel's visit, they'd thought up a small game plan to find the summoning ritual they needed. Each of them set off to scour every inch of bunker. Sam and Alaine handled looking through the library while Dean tackled the archives room.

Time around them ticked at an agonizing pace. They spent several hours at this before Alaine gave a defeated groan and slammed the book in her hands shut. From across the room, Sam peeked his head up from the papers he was reading. 

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She walked over to the leather armchair tucked it to the corner of the library and plopped down. "This is just driving me insane."

"Tell me about it."

Both Sam and Alaine turned toward the sound of Dean's voice as he sauntered into the room. In his arms were a pile of boxes covered in cobwebs and dust. He set them down onto the table, then reached for the first of the stack to remove its cardboard lid.

"How many more of those are there?" Sam asked.

Reaching into the box, Dean pulled out a folder. On the front was the Aquarian star, the Men of Letters symbol. "Too many to friggin' count," the hunter grumbled. 

Alaine dropped the book into her lap and rubbed at her temples. "I'm starting to think this was a terrible idea. I swear, it feels like my head's about to split open."

"It's only been a few hours, babe. If the ritual's here, we'll come across it soon enough."

"There's gotta be a way to find the spear without the help of some god. I mean, what if we manage to summon one but the binding doesn't work? Either one of you ever gone toe-to-toe with a Greek deity before?"

Sam and Dean both turned to each other. "Well, we, uh...we sorta killed Zeus a while back—"

"Zeus, as in the god of lightning?" 

The elder brother shrugged his shoulders, a proud smirk forming over his lips. "It's no big deal."

Alaine glanced between both men, her eyes wide with shock. "You're joking."

"I wish we were," said Sam.

"Okay, you two are officially insane and I'm in need of a freaking beer."

The elder Winchester turned toward her as he set the case file down on the table. "You've read my mind. Wanna go out for some drinks?"

"Only if Sammy tags along."

Sam glanced over at Alaine. "What? No, I'm good. You guys can go without me."

"Come on, man," Dean protested. "We've been cooped up in here all day. It's, what, half past seven?" 

"I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself. We'll bring you a bite to eat on our way back."

Scooping up his jacket from the back of a chair, Dean motioned for Alaine to follow as he wandered out of the library and toward the stairs in the operations room. She quickly rose from her chair, leaving the book behind. 

"See you later, Sammy," she waved after slipping into her black zip-up hoodie and trailing after Dean. 

The couple clambered into the Impala and drove off without a specific destination mind. They chatted for a while, debating on where to go before deciding upon a familiar dive bar a few minutes out of town. They only stayed for a short time. They'd grabbed a few beers, ate a basket of wings and played a quick game of pool when Alaine grew bored and suggested they go someplace else. When they got back in the car an hour later, Dean glanced over at her in the passenger seat as he guided the vehicle down the dark, desolate road. 

"Alright, where we off to now?" 

Alaine pulled her attention away from the passing rows of trees and fastened her gaze onto his hard features. She studied the angles defining his strong jaw and the soft shadow of facial hair across his face. Darkness encompassed the confines of the Impala. The glare of the bright headlights whipping past them on the opposite side of the road illuminated Dean's eyes as he turned to look at her a second time. She felt her breath hitch under the scrutiny of his penetrating gaze. 

"Um, nowhere really."

"What? Why'd you make us leave?" 

Alaine absent-mindedly licked at her lips as she toyed with the white drawstrings of her hoodie. "Do you really want to know?" 

The hunter now frowned as he shifted his eyes back onto the road. "If it's because of the way that waitress was checking me out, I swear I didn't—" 

The sudden feel of her palm settling onto his knee cut him short. She squeezed softly, then slowly dragged her hand up the inside of his leg. His thigh twitched underneath her touch and he sucked in a sharp intake of air as her fingers brushed along his groin. 

He stole a quick glance at her to find her watching him, her amber eyes burning like the gentle flame of a candle flickering in the wind. Her head was tilted slightly, the waves of her long hair cascading down her shoulder. She scooted toward him across the bench seat and Dean tensed the moment she splayed her palm across his manhood. Reflexively, it jumped to life and strained against the zipper of his jeans.

"Baby—"

"I want you, Dean," she whispered into his ear, her breath caressing the side of his face.

The hunter tightened his grip on the steering wheel. "We'll, uh, we'll be home soon."

"No." She moved closer to him and brushed her chest up against his arm as her lips grazed his jaw. "I want you right here, right now."

"Now?" he echoed, his voice heady with evident arousal.

"You see that small clearing coming up on the right? Pull into it."

Dean swallowed hard and nodded. He followed her directions, guiding his Impala off the road and toward the small opening in the trees where he slowed the vehicle to a complete stop. He then cut the engine and as he turned to face Alaine again, she cupped his jaw and drew him to her lips. She kissed him long and deep, pushing her tongue into his mouth with a desperation that rocked them both. Before he knew it, she was moving over him and climbing into his lap, her legs straddling his as her hands tugged at the collar of his jacket.

"Off," she commanded him, her voice a soft growl against his throbbing lips.

He quickly did as he was told, shrugging off the jacket as her fingers moved toward the waistband of his jeans. She reached for the fly, unfastening it with a flick of her wrist and dipped her hand into his underwear to grab a hold of him by the base of his shaft.

"Fuck, baby."

"That's exactly what I want to do to you, Dean. Fuck you 'til you come for me."

Her words were like an electric surge jump-starting him into action. He wasn't sure how they managed to get her shorts off, but the denim landed in a heap onto the passenger seat along with her hoodie and t-shirt. He was now aching all over as she stroked his full length and sucked at his throat. He felt her teeth scrape his pulse point and his whole body lurched against her.

The growl that rippled through his chest set every nerve inside of Alaine ablaze with uncontrollable desire. She heard the clasp of her bra come undone, felt the pads of his fingers skim along her back before her small breasts were lavished with wet, open-mouthed kisses. She deliberately dragged her womanhood along the ridginess of his erection, relishing the shudder that racked his massive body in response. She pulled the crotch of her panties to the side as he palmed her ass and squeezed hard. Rising up onto her knees, Alaine took him into her hand once more to position him at her entrance before slowly easing down.

A collective gasp filled the darkness of the car as she sucked Dean into the moist heat of her body. He opened his mouth to speak, the words becoming lost on his lips. She took all of him with a single roll of her hips, sheathing his length inside of her until she cried out in delight.

"Yes, baby," he praised, his voice strained and gruff. "Just like that. Ride me."

Everything about this moment felt right to the both of them. They were hidden away from the eyes of the world, shielded by the comforting familiarity of the Impala. They were right back where everything started, lost in the here and now, lost in their feelings for one another. There was a sudden shift in the air around them. Dean felt his chest swell with emotion, the sensations humming through his veins catching him by surprise. She altered her tempo, her hips rolling against him with more fervor, dragging out a long, guttural moan from deep within his chest. He gasped and threw his arms around her, pulling her flush to him. She rocked faster, the car now rocking in tune with their love making.

"Alaine, baby don't stop."

Her hands gripped his shoulders hard. Dean flexed his hips upward, stroking her deeper. She bit back a sob at how good it felt as pleasure bolted through her like electricity.

"Dean. Oh, God."

The hunter snaked a hand down to her ass, keeping her pressed snugly against him and thrust into her over and over again. A battle of dominance now ensued between them as they fought for control. What started off as slow, passionate sex quickly turned into desperate fucking. They were breathing hard, their chests heaving with the force of their pleasured cries as they raced towards their release. Sweat trickled down the hollow of Alaine's spine, her insides beginning to seize around Dean, squeezing and clamping his length as if for dear life. 

"I'm so close," she gasped. She pressed her forehead to his, feeling the perspiration beading his skin. 

"Let go, baby. Let go for me. I got you."

"Not until you come."

An animalistic sound tore from his throat as pleasure slammed through him. It stole the breath from his lungs and roared in his veins as he stiffened underneath her. The sharp cry of her name on his lips opened the floodgates and let loose the rampant waves of his climax that crashed over him in one sweep. His orgasm hit him with a violent intensity he'd never felt before. He threw his head back with a primal growl of ecstasy and Alaine's mouth closed around his, swallowing up his cries as she toppled over the precipice and imploded around him. 

Dean held her flush to him as tremors racked his body. He felt her tremble in his arms until she went limp against him. Well after the aftershocks of their release faded, he helped her off him and watched as she weakly slipped back into her clothes. When  she was dressed, she leaned across the bench seat and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

"Ready to go home?" she asked, a hint of playfulness in her voice.

"I don't know what all that was about, but I ain't done with you."

Alaine pulled back and watched as he redid the fly to his jeans and started up the Impala.

"Mmm, is that a promise?"

Dean's mouth lifted into a smirk as he shifted the car out of park. He cast her a sidelong glance. "You bet your sweet as it is, baby girl."


	17. XVII

_**Seventeen** _

Sam had been in the library all morning, books and papers scattered across the table. He'd woken up around sunrise, determined to get a head-start on the day's search for the summoning ritual. So far, it was a quarter past eleven and he'd come up with absolutely nothing useful. With an exasperated sigh, he closed his laptop as he dragged a palm across his face. The sound of faint gurgling reached his ears, and just like that Sam was reminded he'd neglected to feed himself.

"Sounds like someone skipped out on breakfast."

He lifted his gaze from the table to find Alaine sauntering toward him, balancing a plate of sandwhiches in her hand. He smiled, watching as she approached.

"You heard that?"

"How couldn't I? It sounds like your stomach's trying to digest itself."

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, feels like it too."

"Lucky for you, I come bearing gifts. A couple of turkey and cheese sandwhiches on whole wheat."

Alaine set the plate down in front of him, smiling as he nodded his thanks. She moved to the other side of the table and sat across from him.

"So, what have you been up to?" she asked. "Any leads yet on the spear?"

Hungrily, Sam picked up a sandwich from the plate and took a generous bite, chewing slowly. "Mm, nothing yet on the spear. I did find us a case though."

"Really? What's the lowdown?"

"Three disappearances, all males in their late twenties. Happened a few days ago on a camping ground in Russellville, Arkansas."

"So, they just upped and vanished?"

"Seems like it. There was no sign of a struggle at the campsite; all their belongings were still there when the cops showed."

Alaine's brow furrowed slightly in thought. She leaned back in her chair, her thumb tracing the outline of her bottom lip as the gears in her brain turned. "Sounds like it could be a wendigo."

"I thought so too, but there would've been signs of a struggle."

"What are you thinking, Sammy?"

The younger Winchester took another bite of his sandwich and shrugged. "Don't know really. It could be a number of things, but I think we should check it out."

"Check what out?"

Both hunter's gazes flickered over to Dean as he casually strolled into the room. He came up beside Alaine, stopping to drop a tender kiss to her lips. She in turn lifted her face toward his and hummed softly in content at the bristle of his facial hair against her chin.

"Mornin', baby."

"Good morning," she smiled as she stroked the side of his jaw. "Sammy's found as a case today. Sounds pretty promising."

Interest sparked in the man's eyes. He pulled away to cast a glance at his brother sitting across the table. "Alright, talk to me, man. Whatcha got?"

Opening up his laptop, Sam motioned Dean over. The elder Winchester left his post at Alaine's side and wandered over to Sam. He hovered behind him, watching as his fingers flew across the keyboard. A moment later, a police report came up on the screen. Dean leaned forward, his hand settling over the backrest of Sam's chair. 

"What am I looking at?" 

"Missing persons case in Russellville, Arkansas. Three victims were on a camping trip together when they disappeared. Relatives hadn't heard from them in days and called for the police. They were due to go back home last week."

"When did the cops show?"

"Three days ago. There were no sings of foul play, and all of their stuff was left behind."

The wrinkles on Dean's forehead deepened as a frown settled over his brow. "That's weird."

"No kidding. I decided to do some historical digging on the area. I thought maybe the woods could've been home to some ancient burial ground, but turns out that back in the 1600's, the area used to be a camp for European slave trade. The people living in poverty were put to work and bartered for goods. I don't know, we could be looking at some sort of vengeful spirit activity, or it could be something entirely different. I mean, the disappearances have been happening for over centuries. The townsfolk have even reported seeing something lurking around the lake at night."

"Could be some wild animal or something."

"I don't know, man. It wouldn't hurt to take a trip out there and check things out for ourselves."

Dean cast a glance over at Alaine. "What do you think, babe?"

"I'm with Sam. This sounds like something right up our alley."

He nodded and checked his wristwatch before drawing back from the table. "Alright, let's get a move on. Arizona's an eight hour drive and I'd like to get there before sundown."

 

*     *     *

Much to Dean's discontent, they trio arrived at their destination half past nine o'clock. They checked into a roadside motel and dropped their belongings off into their rooms before heading back out to grab a bite to eat. Inside the local mom-and-pop diner, Sam and Dean discussed the circumstances surrounding their case while Alaine sat quietly beside the elder brother, her attention on nothing in particular. As she stared out of the window at the empty road, she listened to the Winchesters talk. 

"I just can't wrap my mind around what we're dealing with," said Sam from the other side of the booth. "I mean, this isn't usual wendigo territory, unless they've chosen to migrate in the last few years."

"Could be a werewolf," Dean thought. 

"I doubt it. Those reports from over time all seem describe the same thing, and from my knowledge, wendigos and werewolfs don't have glowing green eyes." 

"What if they evolved, you know, into some hybrid crossbreed or something?" 

Sam fixed Dean his signature pointed look. "When have we ever heard of that happening?" 

"Listen, right now your guess is as good as mine. We're just gonna have to put all our heads together on this one. How about first thing tomorrow, we go pay the sheriff's department a visit? See what else we can dig up."

"And while we're at it, we can go see the victims' families. We might be able to find out more about those weird sightings around the woods."

"Sounds good. Babe, what do you think?" 

Alaine turned her face toward the brothers. She looked between the two men, considering their game plan before giving an indifferent shrug and replying a simple, "sure." She then cast her gaze back over to the window and resumed to stare out of it in silence. 

The elder Winchester watched her for a moment, observing as she propped an elbow up onto the table to rest her face against her palm. She looked pensive, her thin brows drawn together almost in deep thought. He took note of this and moved closer to her, his arm curling around her back to pull her into his side. 

"You okay, princess?" 

Engulfed by the steady warmth of his body, and the lingering smell of his aquatic body wash, Alaine nuzzled against him and sighed her content. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking."

"What's on your mind?" 

"Nothing really."  

"By the looks of it I'd say it's important. You can talk to me, babe. Is something bothering you?" 

Alaine shook her head softly before letting it rest against his chest. "No. I was just remembering this old tale from when I was kid. One my mom told me."

At the mention of her mother, Dean sensed her body go rigid in his hold. He glanced over at Sam, returning the knowing look his brother cast him as he curled his arm tighter around her. 

The brothers were no strangers to the details of Alaine's past. It was something she never liked to really talk about, and they definitely didn't go around bringing it up. Yet, there were moments like these where they'd find themselves listening to her stories, and Dean would do his best to comfort her. 

Feeling her small arms wrap around his waist, the elder Winchester pressed his lips to the crown of her head and kissed her hair. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

"I know, but I think it's something you guys should know."

"Okay, baby. Whenever you're ready."

Alaine closed her eyes briefly. She took a moment to breathe Dean in, to let his scent fill her senses and ease the thundering of her heart before she spoke next. "Back when I was a kid, before my mom abandoned us, she told me of a story once. A story about her days as a young girl in Armenia. Her grandmother used to tell her tales of a water nymph that would take the lives of men and children. It would lure its prey into bodies of water with its hypnotic singing to then drown them. She said the nymph was a creature of great mystery and beauty, but dangerous because it was born from death."

"Born from death?" echoed Sam curiously. 

"From the drowning of an innocent pregnant woman," she explained. "I know this is pretty morbid, but you mentioned the woods once being a ground for slave trade. Those people were European immigrants, and these disappearances, all involving men, have been happening for hundreds of years. I don't know, I just thought there might be a connection."

"Well, I think you might be on to something. Hell, it'll be our first lead on this case. I say we look into this creature and see what we can find."

"I agree," said Dean. "Let's get our food to go. The quicker we figure this out, the quicker I'll get to put a bullet in it and go home."

Nodding, Alaine nuzzled deeper into the hunter. "Okay."

*     *     *

The Winchesters and Alaine all gathered into Sam's motel room. With their meals bought from the diner, the hunters sat around the small table, laptops and tablets placed in front them as they ate in comfortable silence. Dean sat at his brother's right hand, his attention shifting from his burger to the lit up screen of his iPad. He'd shoved the last of his fries into his mouth when Sam suddenly looked up from his computer screen and turned to both him and Alaine. 

"I found it."

Lifting her gaze up from her chicken salad, she glanced over at Sam. She set her plastic fork down and pushed her food aside, leaning forward in her seat. 

"Thank God," she exclaimed in relief. "What do you got, Sammy?" 

The younger Winchester, proud of his accomplishment, cast her a smile. "Right, so get this: Legend has it, back in Slavic lore, a creature known as a _rusalka_ was considered to be a 'spirit-like being that took delight in killing men and children.' It would lure its victims to their deaths with its singing, drowning their bodies in rivers or lakes to never be heard from again. It's been said they were known for being either beautiful or 'horrendously hideous,' but had glowing green eyes all the same."

"Son of a bitch." Scoffing in disbelief, Dean set his tablet down. "Looks like your mom's story had some truth to it after all. Alright, Sam. What else did you find?"

"They're pretty much compared to vampires for the same reason they're undead, but unlike vampires, they don't drink blood. They spend mostly the fall and winter dwelling in the water, and spring and summer walking on land. The way to distinguish a rusalka is by the sole fact that their hair will never be dry or else theyll die."

"How do we kill it? Alaine asked.

Sam glanced back down at his computer to further read from the web page. "Uh...it says here we can repel it with salt or iron. To kill it..." The hunter paused, his brows furrowing tightly.

"Come on, Sam," urged Dean from beside him. "Now's not the time to keep us in suspense."

"Sorry. For us to stop it, we're gonna have to eliminate the object of its revenge."

"In other words, we're gonna have to kill someone," Alaine clarified for him.

Sam nodded. "Pretty much."

The elder Winchester quickly objected against this. "Okay, we're not killing anyone. You gotta give us somethin' better than that."

"That's all I've got, Dean. From what I'm seeing, there's no other way."

"No, there is. There's always another way."

"Yeah, and so far I'm not seeing it."

"That just means you ain't lookin' hard enough," Dean countered. Pushing his chair back, the hunter rose from his seat at the table. He collected the remnants of his dinner, moving across the room to toss it into the wastebasket. "I'm callin' it a night. Babe, you comin'?"

Alaine hesitated, her eyes drifting away from her moody boyfriend to the half-eaten salad in front of her. She gave it a longing look, then glanced back over at Dean who stood impatiently by the door. Deciding fast, she gathered the plastic bowl into her hands along with her bottled water and bid Sam a quick goodbye before following Dean outside.

Upon walking into their shared motel room, the hunter made a beeline for his duffel bag. Alaine turned toward the mini fridge to store away her unfinished dinner as Dean gathered a small change of clothes and headed into the bathroom. Quietly, Alaine chose to undress. One by one she took her clothes off, the pile at the edge of the bed growing until there was nothing left for her to remove. She then dumped those same clothes into an empty compartment in her gym bag, and trailed into the bathroom.

Inside, Dean was already in the shower. She sauntered across the room, her hand reaching for the edge of the curtain as she moved to pull it aside. At the sudden rush of air hitting his back, the hunter whipped his head around to find Alaine clambering into the tub behind him. Their eyes met, and he cast her a warm smile, turning so that he faced her.

"And to what do I owe this surprise?"

She edged forward as his large palms settled over her hips. Fixing him a smile of her own, Alaine brushed her fingertips over his chest, spreading the soap and foam across the broad expanse of muscle. "I just thought I'd help save some water by coming in here to shower with you.

"Mm, that so?"

A small shudder rolled down her spine as Dean's hands snaked over to her ass. She sucked in a deep breath, filling her senses with the envigorating aroma of citrus and sandalwood that filled the shower. It was calming and arousing all in the same, and she stifled a soft moan of excitement as Dean's hands caressed her body. She felt his strong fingers creep along her back, massaging its way across her skin. They traveled up her spine to her shoulders, gently kneading, and skimmed down her arms. His tender touch brought forth a second moan from the depths of her throat. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes in efforts of silencing it.

Slowly, Dean's fingers continued their descent. They stroked the back of her hands, and trailed along her flat tummy as his head dipped and his mouth caught hers. He heard the small gasp she let slip as his arousal nudged against her body. Smirking, Dean's hands dove for the junction between her thighs, finding her point of pleasure and stroking languidly.

"You've no idea how long I've waited for this," he purred against her lips. In an instant, Alaine was reduced to a whimpering mess before him, small pleas and breathy moans leaving her in shuddering exhales. With both his middle and ring fingers, Dean dipped inside her entrance to gather some of her arousal. She gasped again, this time her hands clawing at his chest.

"Dean!"

Deliberately, he eased in and out of her. Coating his fingers in her essence, he spread it all over her throbbing sex, massaging her little bundle of nerves. He then pulled his lips away from hers, his tongue moving to encircle her earlobe.

"I've dreamt about this. Fucking you in the shower, filling you with my cock. Imagine what it'd sound like, what it'd feel like to have me inside you right now."

His voice was a sensuous rumble that caressed Alaine in ways she didn't know were possible. Heat flared inside of her, and her legs turned to gelatin as his expert touch left her so suddenly. She forced her eyes open just as his hand curled around the base of his shaft. She watched him give his massive length one full stroke, and almost fainted when he moaned against her ear.

"Dean, oh my God..."

"Open up for me, baby. Let me feel how wet you are, how hungry this sweet cunt must be."

All Alaine could do was sigh and dig her nails into his shoulders as one large hand gripped the back of her thigh and hiked her leg up to his waist. Suddenly, the wet ceramic floor of the tub disappeared beneath her as Dean lifted her into his arms. She wrapped her limbs around him, her mouth diving for his the moment he eased her down onto his erection. The abrupt penetration pushed the air from her lungs as he ground his hips up into her. Crying out in bliss, she held onto Dean for dear life, and soon enough found herself climaxing harder than she'd ever had with Dean trailing not too far behind her.

It wasn't until a little while later that the couple finally settled for bed. They'd stretched themselves across the mattress, naked and fully sated in the comfort of each other's arms. In the dark, they listened to one another's breathing, the soothing sound lulling them into a state of relaxation. Alaine had nuzzled further into Dean's body, her face burrowing into the hollow of his throat as his fingers combed through her damp locks. When he spoke, his voice had been soft, his breath a gentle whisper against her temple.

"Baby, what the hell are you doing to me?"

"Hmm? What do you mean?" she asked, her lips brushing softly across his skin. She splayed a palm over his chest, feeling the subtle rise and fall of Dean sighing.

"Everything just feels so intense, like...I don't know. I ain't so good at this."

"It's okay, just say what you feel."

Dean paused. _Say what you feel...Was it really that simple?_

"You're all I think about, all the time," he then murmured as the hand in her hair came to a rest at the base of her skull. Angling back, he tilted her face up to his. "I remember kinda feelin' this way back when we were kids. Day and night, you were all I had runnin' through my mind; made me feel like I was losing it. The only difference now is...I guess the way my heart feels like it's about to burst out my chest whenever I'm around you. Before, I used to get those, what do you call 'em, butterflies, and now it's like a whole nother feeling altogether. I don't know if I'm making sense."

"You are." Smiling, she offered an encouraging nod, urging him to continue.

Relief quickly replaced the small flutter of unease in his stomach. He pressed on. "I know we haven't been at this long, but what I feel for you, I've been holdin' onto for years. You...you're everything that's good in this jacked-up world, everything I need. Just...make sure whatever it is you've been doin' to keep me fallin' head-over-heels, don't stop."

As Dean's mouth descended onto hers, Alaine felt her body react to the effect of his words. She welcomed the new kind of warmth filling her heart with tenderness. It was at this moment she realized she was in love with Dean and would do anything to keep him with her forever.

Wrapping herself around the nakedness of his body, Alaine pulled him close and whispered lovingly against his lips, "I won't ever stop. I promise to promise."


End file.
